


No God is an Island

by starhawk2005



Series: A Light in the Dark [6]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: BAMF Loki, BDSM, Blindfolds, Darcy is an awesome friend, Developing Relationship, F/M, Het, Jane gets help, Lady Loki/Jane, Loki Angst, Loki is evil in the best possible way, Loki needs Darcy's help, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, Torture, directed masturbation, loki's issues have issues, my kinks let me show them to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2017-12-20 12:03:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 81,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starhawk2005/pseuds/starhawk2005
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Part Five of the Light in the Dark series. Unfortunately, SHIELD aren’t the only ones who know Loki is on Earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: All kneel before the Goddess of Proofreading, canyr12!  
> Disclaimer: Not mine. Marvel needs a rent-to-own program, clearly.  
> Author’s Note: Movie!verse, as usual! And it's 56 freakin' pages! A new record for me for chapter length. *dies*
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Banner courtesy of the lovely **cincoflex**!

_ It stands and looks out at the broken stars, a greedy smile splitting its face. _

_ The Chitauri refer to it as ‘The Other’, signifying that it is not of their race, even though the Master saw fit to make it their leader. _

_ To itself, it is only the Nameless One. Oh, it once had a name, but that was long ago. Before the Master came. Before the fire, darkness, and pain. _

_ But if it acquits itself well in this endeavour, it will avoid more pain. Perhaps the Master will even see fit to reward his faithful servant. The creature smirks unpleasantly at the thought. _

_ The Asgardian has been  _ found _._

_ The betrayer is on Midgard, which is something of a surprise to the Nameless One. But no matter. Though the humans had proved to have powerful weapons, those are of no consequence here, as the Nameless One doubts the humans will rush to defend the one who had attempted to lay waste to their home.  _

_ And so, well-schooled in patience by the Master, the Nameless One watches, noting the defenses the Asgardian has laid against attack. It laughs soundlessly at how pathetic those defenses are. The betrayer’s magic is strong, yes, but these defenses seem carelessly made, as if the Asgardian did not believe it possible that he would be found.  _

_ Fool.  _

_ Besides, the Nameless One has its own powers, more than sufficient to counteract the Asgardian’s petty defenses. _

_ At its leisure, it plots the most amusing means of punishment for the Asgardian. The Master wishes the Asgardian  _ alive _, that he may be used to aid in gaining the Tesseract from the Realm Eternal._

_ But the Asgardian is strong, and the Nameless One is sure it can dream up some suitable tortures while they await the Master’s arrival. _

_ It smiles, and it plots. Soon, the betrayer will pay. _

*~*~*

Jane stands in the middle of her lab, fidgeting as she looks around. While it’s not as disorganized as she had feared, the SHIELD agents obviously hadn’t been familiar with Jane’s way of filing everything, so it takes Jane three times as long as she expects to find the things she needs, especially since she’s stumbling around in heels. Dad had always said one should dress nicely before meeting potentially important people, and this definitely qualifies! 

Not that any of this helps her nerves any.

Finally, after an intense, tense search, she finds the structural equation model, clumsily titled the ‘Quadruple Logistic Equation’, which forms the basis of her theory. It’s so bloody complex, than even _she_ sometimes confuses two or more of the terms and has to check her own notes again. Trying to teach it to Darcy had helped Jane get it straight in her own head, at least for awhile, but that doesn’t change the fact it’s a _monster_.

How they apparently manage to do it so effortlessly in Asgard, Jane has no clue, and it’s difficult not to be jealous of them for that! She doubts the Gatekeeper Thor and Loki both told her about – Heimdall, if she remembers correctly – has to worry about calculating vectors, planetary gravity, quantum mechanics, the friction quotient of the interstellar medium- 

“Hey, d’you need any help?” 

Her hands stuck in the middle of a stack of papers, trying to hold them far enough apart so that she can read the titles without toppling the entire stack, Jane doesn’t look around at the sound of Darcy’s voice. “Yes, please! I was just looking for my notes and scans from the last Bifröst event we managed to record-“

“They’re over here,” Darcy says helpfully, rummaging in a box on the other side of the lab. She comes over and hands the pile of papers and acetates to Jane. “ _Love_ the suit, by the way. That dark blue really suits you.”

“Thanks,” Jane says, trying to sound casual though she can feel herself thrumming with nervous energy. Is today the day? Is _this_ the day which will ultimately lead to her dream becoming a reality?

Or will it only be another disappointment?

Darcy trails after her and watches as Jane loads a box full of her most important notes into the back of the Pinz. “Ready when you are,” Darcy says after Jane slams the back shut, Darcy trying not to stare too obviously at Jane’s slightly-shaking hands.

Jane blinks at her. “Um, what?”

Darcy blinks right back. “Uh, I’m your lab assistant, remember? So how can you meet with Mr. Billionaire Superhero without me?” She gestures to the box of notes. “I can find your notes quicker than you can. Sometimes I think you don’t even remember your own filing system.” She pauses. “Especially when you’re nervous,” she adds delicately.

Jane blinks a couple more times. “You know I’m meeting with Stark?”

Darcy shrugs. “Yeah, Fury told me.”

“I’m just surprised Fury wants to invite you to the party,” Jane admits. “He doesn’t strike me as the most ‘open’ guy-“

“Me neither,” Darcy agrees as they climb into the car. “But I guess they figured since I was around when all the drama with Thor and Loki was taking place ‘round here that I was already at the party.” She shrugs and smiles. “At least until SHELD manages to invent that Men in Black mind-wipe doohickey.” 

Jane smiles.

“But anyway, remember when they threw all that money at you after Thor left? When they returned all our stuff? They did a background check on me then, too.”

Jane chews her lip, suddenly feeling guilty. She’d expected them to dig into her life to a certain extent (and Erik’s) once she’d agreed to being on their payroll, but…Darcy’s too?

“So yeah, I doubt they’ll arrest me at the door,” Darcy winks. “Besides, hadn’t you noticed? I wore a skirt today.” She plucks at it by way of illustration. “Hate to waste it. Anyway, I’m here to help. Hey, that’s a neat necklace. Did Loki give that to you last night? I don’t remember seeing it before.”

Jane smiles and starts the car, grateful for Darcy’s presence and rapid-fire, distracting questions. A long lonely drive would only have reinforced Jane’s anxiety about meeting Tony Stark. 

“Yeah, he kind of…conjured it.”

“Sweet!” Darcy gets an envious look on her face. “You know Jane, you’ve had not one, but _two_ gods fall for you. What’s your secret?”

Jane giggles, a little embarrassed. “Honestly Darcy, I have _no_ idea…” 

Darcy sighs. “If you figure it out, share, will you? ‘Cuz those Asgardians…” she gives a low whistle. “Damn, are they _cut_. And I’m starting to get tired of men – human men – and their issues.”

Jane snorts another laugh. “Trust me, Loki has issues. Hell, his _issues_ have issues.”

Darcy gives her a sidelong glance. “Not with you, obviously.”

Jane shakes her head. “No, not with me. But it’s….complicated.” His words come back to her: _As I said, it is family business, Jane Foster._

“Oh well, at least he’s not hard on the eyes while he’s working out his issues.” Darcy winks at Jane and rolls down her window, resting an elbow on the frame. “Can you at least _finally_ tell me how you and Loki met?”

Jane pauses and bites her lip, wondering if she should just tell the truth. She’s tired of hiding, and of lying, and even if their ‘arrangement’ – relationship? – hadn’t started off well, it’s been pretty good since….

Maybe Darcy will withdraw her support once she hears the full story, but Jane realizes that’s a chance she’ll have to take. Loki loves subterfuge, it obviously comes with being the God of Mischief, but Jane isn’t wired that way. She doesn’t enjoy pulling the wool over other people’s eyes the way he does, and in any case, she needs to save her energy for more important things, like building her wormhole generator.

Taking a deep breath and focusing her eyes on the road ahead, Jane begins: “It started a few weeks after the Battle of Manhattan, when I got this feeling, like someone was _watching_ me….”

*~*~*

Jane shouldn’t have worried. She’d described how her relationship had begun with Loki, though she’d glossed over all of the kinky stuff, obviously. Then she’d filled Darcy in on Loki’s battle with Thor, and how Loki had come to be with her in the SHIELD jail, and finally Loki’s ‘confession’ to Fury. 

She’d finished with the fact that Loki obviously had some major issues with Thor and with his family, but that he refused to let Jane in on the reasons why, and then Jane shut up and waited for Darcy’s reaction.

Which was: “Boy, you weren’t kidding. Dude definitely has _issues_.”

Jane couldn’t help giggling nervously. “That’s _it_? That’s all you’re going to say?”

Darcy had looked questioningly over at her. “He’s being good to you _,_ right?” she’d asked.

“Yes.” Jane had replied. “ _Very_.”

“Then I haven’t changed my mind since last night – I wasn’t _that_ drunk, you know. As long as he behaves himself, I’m going to support your decision.” She’d paused, then smiled archly. “Well, behaves himself _outside_ the bedroom, anyway.” 

She’d winked, Jane had laughed, and then they’d moved on to other topics.

By the time they arrive at the SHIELD base, Jane and Darcy are in the midst of a friendly debate about whether Thor, Loki, and the rest of them should be considered ‘gods’ or ‘aliens’. 

The main sticking point seems to be their use of magic. Jane doesn’t know quite what to make of it, despite her words months ago that ‘magic is science we just don’t understand yet’. Darcy, on the other hand, is of the opinion that Loki and Thor’s magic is like ESP, and that maybe some humans have those abilities as well, even if scientists haven’t proven it yet. So it’s not magic, and therefore they are in fact _aliens_. Superior beings, sure. But not gods.

Jane pulls the Pinz into a parking space. “Just don’t call Loki an ‘alien’ to his face, OK? He’s definitely locked into this ‘I am a god’ idea.”

Darcy nods and smirks. “Gotcha.” She starts to open the car door, then pauses. “You ready for this?” she asks Jane. 

Jane closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and tries to calm the fluttering re-birth of the butterflies in her stomach. They’ve been absent for most of the trip up here, thanks to Darcy, but now they are threatening to take over again.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s do this.” She slides out of the car and strides purposefully around to the back to get her notes, though she wobbles a bit on her heels. 

“I’ve got them,” Darcy says, taking the box from her over Jane’s feeble protests. “I’m the lab assistant, remember? I _assist_.”

Over by the door to the imposing SHIELD complex, Jane spots two figures. One is Director Fury, the other a tall redheaded woman in a smart grey suit. Jane’s never met her, but she can guess easily enough who it must be, from the things she has heard about Stark. Setting her shoulders and taking another deep breath, Jane walks over to Fury and the woman, her heels clicking loudly enough on the concrete to make Jane wince inwardly. _That’s what happens when you get used to walking in sneakers all the time,_ she reminds herself.

“Dr. Foster,” Fury addresses her. “This is Ms. Potts, CEO-“

“Of Stark Industries, I know,” Jane interjects, her nerves driving her to interrupt, even as she tries to get a handle on them. She shakes hands with Potts, wincing inwardly again at the thought of how cold her hands must feel to the other woman.

“Please call me Pepper,” she says, smiling kindly at Jane. 

“And I’m Darcy, Jane’s lab assistant,” Darcy pipes up, juggling the box of notes so she can shake hands with Pepper as well. “Say, any chance I can get an autograph from Iron Man?”

“Darcy!” Jane sputters, heat rising into her cheeks. Is _that_ why Darcy wanted to come along so bad? Jane had no idea Darcy was such a fan of  Iron Man.

But Pepper laughs. “I get that a lot, Dr. Foster. Don’t be too hard on your assistant.”

Jane smiles in reply and shakes her head. “I can just imagine. Please, though, call me Jane.”

“Jane, then,” Pepper nods. “Tony should be here within the hour. He was tinkering in his lab when I left, but I reminded him that it’s not nice to keep women waiting.” Pepper smirks knowingly, though Jane has to suppress a pang of envy at the thought of Tony Stark in his lab, with all the freedom and money to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants, _for_ whomever he wants (himself, most likely).

If she plays her cards right, however, that will be _her_ , won’t it? 

“Maybe we could wait indoors, in the air-conditioning?” Fury suggests. His eye focuses on the snake necklace around Jane’s neck, and his expression sours for a long moment before he schools it back to neutrality.  “Ladies?” He motions them ahead of him.

“Thank you,” Pepper says, leading the way with brisk strides.

Jane glances over her shoulder at the parking lot just before the building swallows them up. She wonders if maybe Loki is here, listening and watching but cloaked from everyone’s view. Somehow that thought, correct or not, settles her down a bit.

“Those are lovely shoes,” Pepper compliments Jane as they settle into a lounge on the second floor, Fury excusing himself to attend to other things. The lounge smells pleasantly of coffee, and Darcy dumps her box on the couch and makes a beeline for the coffee machine like her life depended on it.

“Thank you,” Jane says, smiling ruefully. “Too bad they look better than they feel.” She wriggles her toes against the restraining black leather.

Pepper sighs. “Tell me about it. Sometimes I tell myself that if I’m not going to wear sensible shoes now, when I’m CEO, when will I ever get a better chance?” Smirking, she toes off her shoes, and after a moment Jane smiles and does the same, both of them breathing a sigh of relief.

“That’s one of the advantages of research, I guess – I can wear whatever I like. If I want to open a portal to another planet while wearing pajamas and bunny slippers, who’s going to know?” Jane muses.

Darcy sniggers as she plops down on the soft couch next to Jane, adding her sparkly silver ballet flats to the discarded footwear on the floor. “No weirder than all those Asgardians showing up in Puente Antiguo looking like rejects from the local Renaissance Fair.”

Jane stiffens. _Should we really be reminding Stark’s right-hand man (excuse me,_ wo _man) about Loki right now?_

But the warmth in Pepper’s voice doesn’t change. “That reminds me, I’ve been looking over your research, Doc- _Jane_.” Pepper is saying. “It’s truly remarkable what you’ve accomplished, especially given how little support and funding you’ve received from grant agencies and the academic community in general. I saw some of the schematics of the equipment you built from scratch. Tony was fairly impressed.”

Jane smiles and blushes again. “Well, it certainly helped when Thor arrived. Once I knew that other worlds were out there, that other races had similar technology…” She shrugs. “And SHIELD’s support didn’t hurt either,” she adds.

Of course, finally _knowing_ that wormhole travel was possible hadn’t been her only reason for pushing harder at the time. She’d still been in love with Thor then. Which reminds her yet again that she’s with Loki now, and Jane’s smile falters slightly. Does she dare bring that subject up with Pepper, get it out of the way before Stark gets here? 

Or does the other woman already know?

Pepper rises to her feet with a grace Jane wishes she could match, and fetches her own coffee. “I’m sure a  Eureka moment like that never hurts. I’m no scientist – that’s all Tony’s department – but I’ve certainly seen him when that moment strikes.” She grins. “He starts behaving like a hyperactive child on intravenous caffeine.”

Next to Jane, Darcy snorts. “We should get together sometime and compare notes. Survival strategies and stuff like that,” she quips, giving Jane a sideways _look_.

Jane shifts uncomfortably though she tries to smile. “Am I really that bad?” she asks Darcy.

“Nobody could be as bad as Tony,” Pepper gives a long-suffering sigh, though the corner of her mouth quirks.

“Me? _Bad_?” comes a wounded male voice from the hallway. “And here I thought you liked the bad boys.” The legendary Tony Stark strolls casually into the room, followed by Fury. Stark is wearing a Black Sabbath tee shirt and jeans that have seen better days. _Way_ better days. “I feel suddenly underdressed,” he quips, his gaze sweeping the room though it seems to linger longest on Jane.

The butterflies in Jane’s stomach start to wheel in agitated circles.

Pepper makes an exasperated noise and rolls her eyes. “Tony Stark, may I introduce Dr. Jane Foster and her assistant, Darcy Lewis?” 

Jane and Darcy stand, Jane’s hands clenching themselves together in front of her. Moment of truth. It doesn’t help that Fury is there, his single eye locked on Jane, or so it seems to her. And she’s standing here in her bare feet to meet the legendary Tony Stark! Dad would be _so_ disappointed. 

“Ladies,” Tony says, shaking hands with both of them, his grip warm and firm. 

Some of the tension breaks when he pecks Pepper on the cheek. “Get me a coffee, would you?” he asks her.

Pepper rolls her eyes again and sends Jane and Darcy a ‘see-what-I-have-to-put-up-with?’ look, but she smirks and strides over to the coffee machine.

Tony seat-drops onto the couch. “So, a wormhole generator,” he says. 

Jane sits down herself, vaguely aware that Darcy is still standing.

“Yes. That’s probably the simplest way to put it.” Jane glances nervously up at Darcy, who looks a little nervous herself. _What the-? Oh, right._

“My lab assistant is dying for your autograph, Mr. Stark,” Jane says with an inner sigh. Better get that awkwardness out of the way. _Before the_ other _awkwardness, anyway._

“No problem,” he says. “And it’s Tony. Got a pen?” he asks Darcy. 

“You can go, by the way,” Tony says to Fury as Darcy fumbles in her purse. “I think I can control a crowd of one raging fangirl.” He winks at Darcy, who smirks saucily back. 

Rolling his eye in annoyance, Fury snorts and leaves after a single nod at the rest of them.

“Stop pushing Nick’s buttons,” Pepper chides Tony gently, bringing his coffee over.

“Why?” Tony whines. “It’s _fun_. And since when is he ‘ _Nick_ ’?”

Jane has to stifle a giggle, her nerves settling somewhat. Tony seems so…normal? He’s not what Jane was expecting at all, considering he’s so rich, famous, and is a superhero to boot. 

On the other hand, Jane can see the faint blue glimmer of the arc-reactor under his shirt. No, she amends, not normal. But not _frightening_.

“Anyway, I’ve been looking over all the records SHIELD has of your work to date,” Tony says, handing pen and paper back to Darcy. “Impressive stuff. Some real leaps of genius there.” He takes a sip of coffee, but his eyes seem to watch her carefully over the rim of the mug. 

Or is Jane looking for distrust where none exists? She can’t tell. People are so much harder to figure out than planets and stars! Mathematics just doesn’t begin to capture the attitudes and thoughts of the human animal.

“Thank you,” she says, blushing again, her eyes dropping to her lap. “I really appreciate you taking the time to consider working with me.” She fidgets, then decides to take on the elephant in the room head-on, before she dies of anxiety. “Especially given the obvious…. _complication_.”

Tony’s eyes sharpen further. “Pepper, Darcy, could you give us a couple minutes? Jane and I need to have a private conversation. Intellectual property issues to consider, and all of that,” he adds though the last part is a joke, judging by his smirk.

Darcy raises an eyebrow, but Pepper nods in understanding and, snagging both their pairs of shoes from the floor, motions for Darcy to follow her. Jane thinks she glimpses a small reassuring smile from Pepper aimed towards her on their way out.

Jane clenches cold fists tightly in her lap, eyes on the floor as Tony rises and walks to the door Pepper just shut behind her. “So, Loki, huh?” he says, turning to face Jane.

Jane takes a deep breath. “Yes. I’m…involved with him. I guess Fury told you.”

“Yep.” Tony says. He takes a deep swig of coffee. “I think that might’ve even been the _first_ thing he told me.”

Jane’s not surprised. “Did he also tell you what Loki told him? About why he attacked us?”

Tony nods. “He did. Showed me the entire video of the confession, in fact.”

Jane blinks. She hadn’t realized Fury had recorded the conversation, but she’s not surprised, again. “And?”

“Don’t know that I believe all of it, or even most of it,” Tony says, shrugging. “But from what I understand, Thor obviously knows where Loki is, but is letting Loki do his thing. And, frankly, do _you_ ,” Tony points out, and Jane shifts awkwardly. “That goes a long way. While I don’t know Thor all that well, I admit, I know enough about him to be pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if he thought he’d left a monster running around down here.”

Jane nods. 

“Not to mention, the intrepid Director Fury is letting this project go forward,” Tony adds, gesturing with the coffee mug.

Jane snorts. “I’m pretty sure that’s so he can keep an eye on me.” Even she is surprised at how bitter she sounds.

Tony chuckles. “Well, he _does_ only have the one,” he agrees. He drains the mug and puts it on the counter, then flops down on the couch again.

“Still, I get the distinct feeling Fury wouldn’t let this go ahead if he thought Loki was involved.” Tony cocks his head. “ _Is_ he?” His eyes fixate on Jane’s necklace, and she wonders if Loki’s gift is forever going to be an anchor around her throat.

Jane shakes her head. “No. We don’t really talk about my work.” She ignores the blush trying to creep into her face again. 

Tony smirks. “I kinda thought he’d mellow a bit once he got laid.”

Jane is startled into laughing loudly, and Tony joins her. 

“I do wonder sometimes why he’s never asked about my work,” she admits. “Maybe even a Norse God can appreciate the good sense of giving someone else their space?”

Tony shrugs. “Seems to work for Pepper and me. She knows better than to get between me and my suits.” He pauses and looks at Jane for a long moment, his eyes narrowed in a calculating way. 

Seeming to come to a decision, he stands and extends a hand to her. “Are you free next Tuesday? I’ll have Pepper make arrangements to get you to Stark Tower in New York. I’ll show you the site for the new arc reactor, go over the specs with you and make sure they work with your theoretical model, that sort of thing.”

Jane blinks up at him. Frankly, she’d expected more resistance than this. ”Does this mean that you trust me, then?”

“You haven’t given me any reason not to,” Tony replies. “Just keep Reindeer Games away, OK? And no discussion of the actual portal or power source specs with him. Though I’d be telling you to do the same even if he was Joe Blow. It’s S.O.P. for SHIELD.”

Jane nods. “Of course. I figured as much.” She rises to her feet and takes Tony’s hand. “I…don’t know what to say, Mr. Stark. I’ve been working for so long, spent so much time wondering if my portal could ever be built and-“

“It’s Tony, and you’re welcome. I always enjoy making history,” he jokes, smiling warmly down at her. “Now,” he says, motioning towards the door. “Grab your shoes. We’d better find our lady friends and One-Eye and tell ‘em all the good news…”

*~*~*

Jane is so high on both relief and sheer excitement that Darcy takes one look at her face in the parking lot and insists on driving the Pinz back home. “You’ll daydream us right into a ditch,” Darcy argues, firmly pushing Jane towards the passenger side.

Darcy knows Jane well enough to know when she’s in full-on geek mode and won’t be in the mood to talk; Darcy starts the car and immediately turns on the Pinzgauer’s radio.

Jane doesn’t take offense at Darcy ignoring her; she _needs_ the head-space right now. So much to think about. Jane takes out her notepad and starts scribbling lists immediately at lightning speed, first of all the equipment she’ll need to bring over from her lab, then of the estimated power requirements she’ll need to generate a portal to Asgard – she may not be welcome there, as Loki’s lover, but it’s still the most obvious choice. Where else is she going to go? – and then a list of all the calculations she’ll want to double- and triple- and maybe even quadruple-check.

It’s a long drive though, and eventually Jane finds herself exhausted by the whole thing, even as her brain keeps buzzing along in a million directions. But Darcy is in her own little zone, still listening to the music and humming to herself, so Jane tries to turn her thoughts to something- anything- else.

The first thing that comes to her is Loki’s voice: _Are there certain acts or scenarios you have always wanted a lover to do, to you or with you, that you wish to attempt with me?_

Jane rolls her eyes at herself. _Jesus H. Christ._ _Maybe Loki isn’t the only one with a one-track mind._

She turns to the window to hide her little smile. That’s not true, she has _two_ tracks: Einstein-Rosen bridge, and kinky sex.

Still, she can see no actual harm – and it _would_ be a mental break from Stark-Foster for a few minutes – in thinking about what she might like to try. Or not. She already knows that she likes being overpowered, and that she likes dangerous men. Loki already fits the bill on both, but does she dare take it any further? 

Maybe it would be safer, if less exciting, just to linger in the realm of something more mundane for a while? The ‘hunt’ they’d acted out had been damned _hot_ , but if she does that kind of thing too often with him, won’t _that_ get boring pretty quickly?  

Or is she just talking herself out of trying more challenging things because she’s _afraid_? Afraid of him judging her or laughing at her, afraid that he’ll take things too far and it will stop being fun, afraid of exposing too much of herself?

Jane shakes her head slightly. This? Not helping. Damn.

She sighs and tries to engage Darcy in conversation instead. “I didn’t know you were such an Iron Man fan,” she says.

“I’m not,” Darcy answers. “But his autographs sell for a shitload of money on e-Bay.” 

Jane laughs until she almost pees herself.

*~*~*

Jane closes her ( _her_! The idea still feels her with a kind of giddy joy) apartment door behind her. “Anyone here?” she calls, but she gets no answer. She doesn’t want to say Loki’s name just yet and summon him if he isn’t here already; she’d realized on her way up the stairs that she hasn’t given any thought at all to what she’ll tell him about today.

The apartment is empty, the silence seeming to ring in her ears. She finds herself pacing absently from room to room, her brain still full of calculations and hypotheses…and worries about what could go wrong. What she might have missed.

It’s one thing to work with Darcy (who doesn’t really understand) and Erik (who in the past was tolerant of any mistakes on her part), but working with a legend like Tony Stark? Fucking this up is going to be _that_ much more embarrassing! Probably really bad for any remaining academic reputation she has as well.

After what feels like hours, Jane finally decides she’ll never get any sleep tonight if she doesn’t manage to shut her overactive brain down. So she makes herself a hot peppermint tea and goes up onto the roof. She already moved two chairs into ‘her’ corner during the move, and now she sits and watches the sunset, sipping the steaming liquid slowly.

She wonders if she should summon Loki, but that only leads her to start on a new worry: What, if anything, she’ll tell him about today’s meeting.

After a brief argument with herself, she decides the best way to handle this whole problem is to let _him_ ask, if he’s curious. She realizes she wants him here, badly. She needs a distraction if she’s going to be able to turn her brain and body off and relax at all tonight.

“Loki.” she says loudly, a few decibels lower than a shout. 

She wonders how quiet she can be, and yet still have him hear her. That will need to be an experiment for another time, for now there’s a creaking of leathers behind her, and the god himself walks over to sit beside her.

“My lady,” he smirks, raising her hand to his lips. She giggles and shakes her head in reply. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to that.

He scans the horizon and the clouds, pink-tinged from the lowering sun. “A lovely view.” He pauses, then asks carefully. “And did you have a productive day, my Jane?”

She squeezes his hand as her barely-controlled excitement surges. “Yes, I’ll say! I met with Tony – Stark, rather – and he agreed to work with me. He’s going to build the power source for my por- my Bifröst!”

Loki smiles, seemingly delighted by her delight, but then a serious expression returns to his features. “Might I assume he knows about me – about _us_?”

Jane nods, her own smile wavering a little. But then she decides just as quickly that she won’t buy into the shame that she thinks she can read on his face. “Fury told him. But Stark seems OK with it – Fury showed him your…confession. And Tony figures if Thor seems all right with you being here, and Fury is OK with me working with Stark Industries…” She trails off with a shrug, but her excitement renders her unable to sit still. She releases his hand and gets up and paces, draining the last of her tea, her feet making scuffing noises. Loki watches her restless movements curiously.

“Are you well?” he asks her after her fifth circuit of the rooftop.

“Yes, I am. Actually, I’m _better_ than well.” She turns to face him. “Everything I’ve been working towards, for as long as I can remember…and now it feels like it’s _right there_. Like I might actually be able to make this bridge between worlds _work_. It’s not just a pipe dream or whacked-out scientific theory. Other people believe in it.”

Loki frowns. “Why should they not? Oh, perhaps before, before Thor-“ he pauses, grimacing, but then soldiers on: “-and I came here to your Realm, and yes, the Chitauri as well. But the other Nine Realms are out there, and denying it will not help your people be ready to meet them. Or to defend themselves.”

Jane freezes in place, her blood going utterly cold. The mug dangles from abruptly nerveless fingers. “You think Fury wants my portal so we can somehow defend ourselves better against alien attack? Or escape?”

Loki shakes his head at her distress and rises from the chair to pluck the cup from her hand, and then he wraps his larger hands around hers. “In truth, I cannot say what he thinks. Or if that such is true, that he would be wrong. The universe and Midgard are not so different, in the sense that some who populate it are good, while others are of evil intent. No doubt once Midgard can open the way to other worlds, some will welcome your people with open arms – like Asgard, I would safely warrant – while others may look to conquer you. But even if it is the latter case, the Bifröst in Asgard has always proved useful, and thus I would wager having a Midgardian version will do more good than harm.” Warmth seeps into her skin from his, though his eyes look haunted.

“But why dwell on what may never come to pass?” he asks, drawing her in for a kiss. “Your first task is to build the bridge, and finally the other mortals are recognizing and supporting your hard work and intellect. Thus it seems to me that a celebration is warranted.” He kisses her again, harder and deeper than before, his tongue curling around hers.

Jane smiles and tries to catch her breath when he lowers her back to her feet. “I don’t know if I’m capable of cooking up an Asgardian-style feast.” _Yeah, like ramen noodles, PB and J, Kraft dinner, and pancakes would even come_ close _._ That’s about the extent of her cooking ability, sadly. 

He grins. “Such was not my intention. No, I shall find a suitable place for us to dine. I will make the arrangements, and return in half of one of your hours to collect you.”

He vanishes before Jane can ask him anything further. _Crap. He didn’t say if it was fancy or-_ She has to chuckle. Right, like Mr. Terminally Overdressed would take her to Taco Bell to celebrate.

She goes back to her apartment, excitement still fueling her as she digs in the closet for her blue wraparound dress. Thank God she had decided not to pack it during the move, just in case, as most of her clothes are still in boxes! She only has the one pair of dress shoes, the same ones she wore to meet with Tony today, so she goes to retrieve them from where she dropped them earlier.

She studies herself in the mirror. The dress leaves her shoulders bare, and she wonders if she should wear or bring a wrap of some kind. But that would cover Loki’s gift, and it looks very good on her, paired with the dress. Well, no doubt if she feels cold, Loki can do something about that. She smirks and winks at herself, then applies a little makeup and brushes out her hair.

She then spends about ten minutes pacing the apartment again. Without Loki here to divert her attention, it’s too easy to fall right back into ruminating about Stark-Foster-

A flash dazzles her eyes, and Loki is back. He’s once again wearing his dark suit, white dress shirt, and _that_ scarf. The one he used to blindfold her in the SHIELD jail, to help her ‘focus’. She finds herself blushing at the memory. 

_ And I thought _ I _had few clothes,_ she thinks, hiding a grin. Loki seems to have exactly three outfits – Dressy Midgardian, Asgardian Casual, and Asgardian Armoured to the Max. But at least he’s retained his progress with the hair-gel, or rather, the _lack_ of hair-gel. Jane approves.

His eyes take in her form from head to toe. “My beautiful one. I shall surely be the envy of all. Come,” he says, beckoning her with an elegant hand. 

She shakes her head and blushes bright red at his compliment, but takes his hand. Half a heartbeat later, she is blinking the purple flashes out of her vision to find that they are standing in front of a renowned French restaurant. Even Jane, as unworldly as she is, recognizes the name. “You got a reservation _here_?”

He raises an eyebrow. “I am-“

“A God, yeah, I get it,” Jane finishes for him, but she’s chuckling. 

He grins and tugs her gently with him into the restaurant. 

*~*~*

The interior of the place is appropriately dim, the decor in warm golds and reds, the booth they are settled into is plush and private, and the food is, of course, completely exquisite. 

The only thing keeping it from being absolutely perfect is Jane’s continued nervous energy. 

Loki is obviously aware of it too, given he sat himself down right next to her in the booth when they arrived, and he glances over at her with gentle amusement every time she fidgets, her side brushing against his.

To his credit, he does his best to distract her with conversation. He asks her what it is like, living by herself and having to do all her own tasks of daily living – and he seems genuinely interested in her answers. Living on one’s own with no servants must be very new and alien to him.

To be fair, Jane tries to put some of the focus back on him. “Would you mind very much telling me about the Bifröst? The real one, I mean?”

Loki shakes his head regretfully. “Alas, there is not much I can convey. It is fuelled by magic, this much you will surely have guessed, but the mechanics of that magic would be difficult for me to explain.”

“Because I’m not a magic-user?” Jane asks.

“Partly. But also because I am not at all familiar with such workings. The Gatekeeper -Heimdall- is the one to whom you would need to direct your query. I would possibly be able to explain to you how to cast illusions and such, if I could first have you grasp the fundamentals of magic and how it can be bent to one’s will. But even that, I suspect, would prove difficult. And unlike illusions, the Bifröst is quite outside my area of…expertise.”

They pause as the waiter brings their desserts – crème brulée for her, tarte tatin for him – and Loki takes a bite, chews appreciatively, and then changes the subject. “Now, have you given any thought to my question regarding which fantasies of yours you will wish me to indulge?”

Jane nearly chokes on her fork. What is it with him and asking embarrassing questions in restaurants?

She gives a short laugh. “I haven’t really had the time, to be honest. Between moving and now this Stark thing…well, I’ve had a lot on my plate.” Her brief debate with herself in the Pinz hadn’t yielded any actual fantasies, after all, so she’s not exactly _lying_ to Loki.

“How disappointing,” he sighs, but he’s eyeing her cleavage in a way that doesn’t match his tone.

“What’s wrong with just having…I don’t know, _standard_ fantasies?” She drops her voice and glances around, but no one seems to be paying any attention to them. “Tying me up, spanking me, and covering me with snakes is not arousing enough for you?”

He inclines his head, smirking. “I am not saying they are not enjoyable. But sometimes adding yet another layer to such an activity adds… _spice_.” He licks his fork, and to Jane the motion seems full of innuendo.

“You must realize, of course,” he continues, “that I have existed a long time. _Millenia_ , compared to you. I have bedded many women – and the occasional man – and so I have learned much about the myriad ways of pleasing partners from various Realms. This is not about me being bored, it is about _you_ being bored.”

Jane shakes her head. “I’m not bored. Not even close!”

He studies her face closely, his eyes narrowed. “No, not bored, perhaps. But you are _occupied_. I can see it clearly this night. Whenever we are not speaking, your thoughts race. Your life’s work has its own seductiveness. It does not easily let you go.”

“It’s not a competition,” Jane says. 

“No, perhaps not. But I rather think that if I do not totally satisfy and exhaust you tonight, you will not sleep,” he predicts. It reminds her of the SHIELD jail, when he’d said something similar.  

Jane flinches in surprise as his hand closes on her leg. The dress only comes to mid-thigh, and his fingertips flirt with the edge.

Red stains her cheeks. “Loki!” she chides him, trying to push his hand away. She may as well try to push Stark Tower over with her bare hands, but at least his hand doesn’t advance any further up her thigh.

He shakes his head slightly and shifts over to press his side fully against hers, folding his lean arm around her bare shoulders. “No one shall see us. Unless you _want_ them to.”

Jane shakes her head – there’s that exhibitionist streak in him again – “You couldn’t leave a tip large enough to cure the trauma,” she jokes half-heartedly. She’s intensely aware of his hand on her thigh, fingers caressing her skin in tiny precise circles, transmitting warmth into her flesh.

She’ll grant that he _is_ right on one point – she’s not fixated on anything related to astrophysics at this particular moment.

He leans into her, burying his nose into her hair and breathing deeply, then he presses a soft kiss to the sensitive flesh behind her ear. “If it would make it easier for you, I could start. I could relate to you a few of my desires,” he suggests, his voice like gravel wrapped in silk.

Jane shivers, wanting him to stop and wanting him to _not_ stop at the same time. He knows it too, she’d take bets on it.

“For example, I enjoy watching my partners pleasure themselves. I always find it very…educational,” he declares. “And there are some playthings - Asgardian, though I am certain there are Midgardian equivalents, like that vibrator of yours- that I have used in the past that certainly have brought joy to many partners.” He pauses and cocks his head, watching her face closely. He’s enjoying every minute of this, Jane realizes. “Or perhaps lying with me in my female form would be of interest to you?” he continues.

Jane has tried to ignore the heat rising in both her cheeks and her belly during this whole recital, doing her best to remain unmoved, but that last suggestion of his makes her jaw drop. “Wh… _what_?”

His lips brush against her ear and she can feel the curve of his grin against her skin. “I have some ability to shift my shape. Oh, it is _limited_ – I cannot take forms significantly larger or smaller than myself. But to alter my own appearance, and to change gender, those are nothing.” He traces his fingers lightly along her shoulder, and Jane shudders, goosebumps rising on her arms. “But be assured, my Jane, such are only suggestions. I do not _expect_ you to participate. Do so only if it is something which interests you as well.”

Jane shakes her head again, tongue momentarily tied. She settles for chuckling nervously, finally managing to answer with: “Maybe I should be worried about boring _you_.”

His teeth graze her neck just above the necklace, and she has to silence a gasp. “I do not think that possible, little one,” he insists, nuzzling under her ear. “Oh, perhaps if you were one of those partners who insists on only the most _gentle_ of acts, and always in the same place and position and with never any variation, well yes, that would certainly pose a risk.” He finally leans back and flashes her a leering grin. “But I think we have already well-established that you too would be bored by such repetitiveness.”

Jane blushes (you’d think her cheeks would be tired of it by now), but it’s the truth. “Got me,” she admits, smiling a little despite her mixed emotions.

“Oh _yes_ , that I do,” he purrs, his arm tightening around her as he leans in again. “Now, where was I?” he continues as she squirms, her tension rising again. “Oh yes – some other ideas. There are a few…scenarios that some past partners have enjoyed playing with me that perhaps you would also enjoy. For example, not too long ago in Midgard’s history – though I suppose that is only in my estimation – it was not uncommon for those courting my favour to offer me a _sacrifice_.” He pulls back to he can assess her reaction to that.

Jane laughs and covers her burning face with her cold hands. “I don’t think I fit the bill. If you mean virgin sacrifices, I’m way past that, as you yourself know! And nobody would ever consider _me_ beautiful enough to tempt a ‘god’-“

In answer his hand moves up her thigh a bare inch, silencing her. “You already have, my dear,” he points out. “Two gods, in fact,” he adds, and Jane can’t argue with that. “But to continue our discussion, sometimes past partners of mine enjoyed it when I…shared them with another. Tell me Jane, have you ever had more than one partner attempt to please you, at the same time?”

Jane thinks her jaw has dropped low enough to almost impact the floor this time. Loki has always struck her as borderline possessive, given that whole ‘You are _mine_ ’ business, so this is really the last thing she’d expect him to fantasize about. 

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” she mutters. “I have enough trouble maintaining relationships with one person, let alone two. Or more!”

He shakes his head and the corner of his mouth quirks in a smile. “Not a relationship. Another… _arrangement_.”

“I…don’t know if I could do that. If I would feel safe,” she says, but she can feel the lie between her legs. 

It seems that while her brain feels one way, her body is more than willing to try anything Loki suggests.  

“I would not violate the trust between us by bringing in someone whom I was not absolutely sure would treat you excellently,” Loki asserts, his bright eyes locked on her reddened face. “As I’ve said before, my goal is _your_ pleasure.”

“Please, Loki, can we not talk about this here?” Jane begs. It feels like every ounce of blood in her body is trying to cram itself into her blushing face. Surely the people around them will have noticed their intense, sexually-charged embrace by now and will be watching, though Jane doesn’t dare look around to verify that.

“Why not? It is obviously exciting you.” His fingertips gently stroke the inside of her thigh.  

She whimpers as he kisses her hard, tongue slipping against her lips. She tells herself she should resist, that this is _not_ the time or place, even as she allows him entry. His hand slips behind her neck, the pads of his fingers making slow caressing circles over the muscles, and the hand between her legs tugs lightly, spreading her legs wider.

She breaks the kiss, trying not to pant. “Maybe,” she retorts raggedly, trying to throw him off, “one of my fantasies is to dominate _you_.”

He laughs with delight against her mouth, and she swallows a groan as his teeth lightly pinch her lower lip. “You did please me thoroughly the last time I allowed you to subjugate me. So indeed I see no reason to deny you – nor I – such a thing. But in a future session, perhaps. For the time being, I prefer to retain control.”

He takes her mouth with another deep, breath-stealing kiss. When he finally lets her go, he leans his forehead against hers, his breath falling hot and soft on her face. She’s never realized before how long and dark his eyelashes are. 

“I can feel your internal struggle,” he says in a low soothing voice, “and it is so unfortunate and unnecessary. You Midgardians have such bizarre ideas about the simple act of intercourse. That your males may bed whomever they choose, and as many as they can. Indeed, they are encouraged to! Whereas your females may only sleep with a few carefully chosen partners, or be labeled as wanton. Or worse. Oh, you tell yourselves things have _changed_ , and for the better, but I personally am not convinced that your attitudes as a people have changed that much. Your battle against your needs at this very moment gives the proof.”

Jane raises a brow. “You’re not as ignorant of our culture as you led me to believe,” she accuses him. His hand moves just a little higher on her thigh and she finds her hand on top of it again, trying to stop him. Again, he doesn’t push past her resistance.

“There are many things I know,” he allows. “But many more that I do not. But let us not change the subject. Midgardian women are not encouraged to fully explore and express their sexuality. Oh, your entertainment media are brimming with sexuality – too much of it, even! - but how you live your own lives is completely opposite. Take this moment, for example. What harm could there be in allowing me to _touch_ you?” His hand on her leg squeezes gently.

“It’s the same reason why I don’t want to have phone-sex with you at my lab!” she sputters. 

He chuckles. “Surely they are not the same. There, I will grant you, Lady Darcy could stumble upon and interrupt the proceedings at any time. And no doubt that would create some discomfort between you, I will admit.”

Jane shakes her head. “You _think_? Besides, we humans have a saying: ‘You don’t mix business and pleasure.’” 

Loki inclines his head. “A fair point. So, no playing at your place of work. But here? None knows or cares who we are. Or truly, what we are doing. If we are careful.” His grin is predatory. “In fact, it would be a simple matter for me to cast an illusion over us. Our fellow patrons will be none the wiser. No different than when you allowed me to have my way with you in that SHIELD dungeon.”

Jane swallows hard but still feels very nervous about the whole thing. Even if the other people can’t see, _she_ would know. “I don’t know. It’s just not something I _do_. I’m just not that brave.” She gives a short, uneasy laugh.

“Might I suggest, respectfully, my dear one,” Loki urges, “that you would do better to apply several new rules to yourself? I am a God, not one of the foolish Midgardian males who passed up the chance to claim you. Could you perhaps at least consider _trying_ those acts which you are somewhat unsure or uneasy about? If they do not cause you enjoyment, we need not ever try them again. But it is hardly logical to dismiss them out of hand, merely because they offend some misguided sense of propriety that was forced upon you by upbringing.” 

Jane tries to think, but it’s hard to keep her rational brain going when he’s this close to her, his scent all around her and his warm hand stroking her leg. 

“I suppose, fine. _Yes_.” she says, somehow thinking that might get him to back off, or to slow down, to buy her some time.

Wrong.

His lips skate across her ear. “If I might make a further suggestion, it would be this: If something feels good to you, do not stop it. You may have been reared to deny yourself pleasure, but that is entirely irrelevant. You can set those attitudes aside if you choose to.” As if to illustrate his point, his hand tries to slip up her leg once more, and hers tightens around his again. 

He turns his hand, grasping her sweaty one gently. “You see?” he says, “This is exactly what I am speaking of. Am I hurting you?”

“N-no,” Jane whispers. She can already feel her resistance crumbling. Loki’s words do have a kind of twisted logic, damn him to hell.

“Are you enjoying my touch?” 

Jane closes her eyes tight. “Yes,” she admits.

“Whose judgment is it that you fear? These other mortals around us are nothing to you and me. And I will see to it that they will be unable to notice what is transpiring between us. In fact-” There is a pause, and Jane imagines Loki gesturing. “It is done, though we will still need to be rather _quiet_.” 

Eyes still shut, Jane admits softly, “Maybe it’s _your_ judgment I’m afraid of.”

He makes a sound of negation. “In that case, fear nothing. I have seen and catered to desires and wants of all kinds in my long years, and have indulged many of my own. It is a poor bedmate indeed, who is imprudent enough to judge his partner negatively for the things that arouse her.” 

He turns her face to his and kisses her, his hair tickling her face as his tongue strokes along hers. “You want to yield to me completely, I can tell,” he says after pulling away. “I can feel your heart racing-“ his fingers graze the side of her neck, following along the edge of his gift to her- “I can _scent_ it on you. Do not give such battle to your desires. Let them loose.”

Trembling, she makes her decision. One, she tilts her chin up, giving him access to all the places on her neck and throat that he knows she enjoys him kissing. Two, she releases her grip on his hand, and voluntarily opens her legs just a fraction wider.

It’s insane, utterly insane what she’s letting him do – no, what she’s _encouraging_ him to do! – but she doesn’t care about that anymore. How many times has she wished she’d taken more chances in her personal and sexual life? Too many to count.

She doesn’t want her fears to get in the way. If she’d allowed fear to stop her, would she have made the same gains in other areas of her life, such as with the Einstein-Rosen Bridge? Not likely.

“Yessss,” he purrs encouragingly. “Place your faith in me, my Jane.”

He practically attacks her neck with tongue and teeth, and Jane bites her lip hard against the whimpers rising in her throat. She fists a hand in his soft black hair and digs the fingers of her other hand into the banquette, thigh muscles tensing under his hand as it strokes slow circles up her leg.

What he’ll do when he reaches her panties, she doesn’t know. But the thought of what he _might_ do both alarms and excites her.

What he does do is lightly scratch a blunt nail along the edge of her panties, along the crease where thigh and torso meet, and Jane gasps into his mouth and writhes, certain she’s leaving damp marks on the seat beneath her.

His knuckles brush against the fabric that separates his flesh from hers, then his thumb circles her clit through the thin cloth. He muffles the noises that wrenches out of her with his mouth, then he pulls away completely, a calculating look on his face. 

Jane blinks, now confused and aroused beyond believing. She swipes her hair out of her flushed face and frowns at him. “What are-?”

“Your inner garment is in my way,” he says matter-of-factly. “Shall we remove it?”

It feels like all the blood has now rushed _out_ of Jane’s face. “You want me to take my panties off?” she asks, her voice low and shocked.

He smirks. “Is that not what I said? Yes. And be quick about it, lest I rip them asunder in my impatience to please you.”

“Loki,” she whispers desperately, glancing fearfully around the room before she remembers his illusion. So much for her attempt at bravery.

“You agreed to not let your fears give you pause,” he points out. “And as you will no doubt recall, under the terms of our arrangement, I am in charge. I am your God and master, and I tell you now: You may go and remove your undergarments in privacy, or I will remove them myself, right here and right at this moment.” His eyes challenge her, gleaming diabolically.

Stiffly, Jane slides to the end of the booth and gets to her feet. Her knees feel weak and trembly, and the clicks of her heels sound like gunshots to her. Surely everyone is staring _now_ , illusion or not?

She manages somehow to make it to the bathroom, which is mercifully unoccupied. She stares at her face in the mirror. She’s flushed and a corner of her lipstick is smudged, her pupils dark and dilated.

_ Slut, _ her negative inner voice reprimands.

_ Oh yeah? Well, maybe I’m tired of being the good girl. When did toeing the line ever get me anywhere? _

Like Loki has pointed out so logically (and Jane loves logic, doesn’t she?), where’s the harm?

She wipes off the rest of her lipstick before Loki smudges it all away anyway (Is it smeared on his mouth? The notion makes her smile), she splashes water on her rosy face, and she pops into a stall and takes off her panties. Then she stops.

She has no purse, no bag. Where the heck is she supposed to put these? 

But Loki is _waiting_ , so Jane just washes her hands as quickly as she can and balls the panties up in her fist. Nobody else comes in, thank God.

Taking a deep breath and steeling herself, she pushes open the door. Loki’s dessert plate is bare and he’s stealing a bite of hers when Jane gets back to their table.

She scoots over next to him again and shoots him a dark glance. “That’s _my_ dessert,” she informs him sharply.

He licks the spoon and eyes her up and down. “So it is. Finish yours, and then I will continue _mine_.” His eyes dance.

She finishes the crème brulée as slowly as she dares, savouring it and the anticipation, even as her nerves crank tighter. At least Loki takes pity on her and instead of fixating his intense, hungry stare on her, he scans the room nonchalantly instead, though his hand remains on the back of her neck, idly tracing distracting little patterns over and over.

Jane finishes the last delicious bite, and Loki is curling his arm around her and invading her personal space before she’s even finished pushing the plate away. 

“Now, where were we?” he says conversationally, and Jane giggles nervously. “Did you do as instructed?”

Wordlessly, Jane holds up her left hand. “I had nowhere to put them-“

“A minor inconvenience,” he says, taking them from her. He then folds them neatly on her lap…and then sticks them into the pocket of his blazer like a handkerchief. 

_ Holy crap. _ “What are you- You really _do_ want me to die of embarrassment, don’t you?” Jane accuses him. At least they’re black and fairly plain-looking. Pink butterflies and lace would stand out a lot more against his suit.

He raises a brow. “Always so quick to assign murderous intent to me?” he asks reprovingly. “No. You would not make nearly as many arousing noises if you were dead. Besides, do you not recall? None are able to bear witness right now, I saw to that.” 

He aborts her reply with lips and tongue and teeth, his hand sliding around her throat. It traces the edge of the snake necklace as he kisses her, before he puts his hand back under the tablecloth. “Spread your legs, little minx,” he demands, his breath searingly hot on her cheek.

She does, her breath stuttering as he bunches her dress up around her waist and hooks her knee over his to spread her even wider. His other hand slips down her side, fingers grazing the side of her breast lightly. Jane squeezes her eyes shut as blood slams into her cheeks again. Nobody may be watching, assuming Loki is even telling her the truth about his illusion, but old habits die hard it seems.

His hand slides up the inside of her leg aggressively. He’s not taking any prisoners this time, apparently. Then Jane blinks as his hand slides back down to her knee. Not what she expected – surprise surprise. 

“Such soft, lovely skin,” he hums in her ear. 

“Thank you,” she replies in a low voice, fisting his shirt with one hand and digging the nails of her other hand into the cushion of the banquette again.

“You have no idea,” he continues, “How badly I want to tear the rest of your garments from you, lay you out on this table, and slowly savour the perfume and salt of your womanhood.”

Jane clenches her jaw tightly to prevent the loud gasp that wants to escape. He won’t, she’s pretty sure he won’t. “If this world domination thing doesn’t work out for you, I think you may be able to have a solid career as a phone sex worker,” she observes saucily, even as the drawn-out war between desire and modesty continues to rage within her.

He laughs silkily in her ear, then takes her mouth in another searing kiss, his hand still stroking her inner leg, teasingly slow, up and down. She doesn’t even realize she’s squirming, her body practically begging him. Her brain might be split, wanting and _not_ wanting, but her flesh only wants one thing – him, inside her. Now.

Her muscles pulse and spasm, the heat inside her becoming nearly unbearable. “Please,” she begs him. “Please, Loki, I need-“ her throat closes on the last few words as she battles herself, but he shows her some mercy at last.

“Of course, my love,” he answers, pulling her head into his shoulder to muffle her noises as he finally brushes his fingers against her wet curls. She shudders and her hips buck, her legs spreading even wider apart of their own accord.

Loki’s teeth graze her collarbone, one hand squeezing her tight to him to hold her squirming body still as he explores her freely, dipping between the slickened folds. But he doesn’t touch her clit, and Jane grinds her teeth, caught between delight and frustration. 

She drops her hand to rub it over the straining bulge in his pants, and he hisses but doesn’t relent. He works a single finger inside her, slowly and deliberately, and though Jane’s head rolls back limply on her neck he cups the back of her skull with his free hand and pulls her face back to his, devouring her soft cries as the hand between her legs thrusts slowly in and out. 

He pauses his motions only long enough to spill more dirty words in her ear. “How hard your nipples are,” he whispers. “I can see them pressing eagerly against your clothes. How I want to strip them bare and taste them, _bite_ them right now.” He bites her earlobe instead, though not very hard. His lewd words whip the inferno inside her higher, and Jane feels her control slipping. She wants to whimper and gasp and keen, and to do it _loudly_. 

She’s so close, she realizes dimly short moments later, sweat beading on her face and neck, heat gathering all over her body. If he just touches her clit, right now, she’ll almost certainly-

Instead, he withdraws his hand from her, letting it rest stickily on her knee. His other hand is still on the back of her neck, making slow soothing circles in the damp hair at her nape. Jane shakes her head like a wet dog, her thoughts scattered, her entire body throbbing, aching with _need_.

“Loki, _please_ ,” she says, not even really aware of what she’s saying.

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet, woman. Be most assured of _that_. Do you wish a moment to cleanse yourself before we leave?”

It seems to take Jane a long while to process what he’d said. “Sure, OK, just- just a second.”

She starts to slide off the banquette, but he catches her wrist. “You are not allowed to bring yourself to climax in there,” he says sternly. “If you try to satisfy yourself without my bidding, be also assured that I _will_ know….and I will be forced to punish you most severely.”

Jane shakes her head numbly. “Yeah, OK. I wasn’t- wasn’t even thinking of that.”

Satisfied, he nods and releases her, but she can feel him _watching_ her as she totters back to the restroom.

She cleans herself up as best she can, splashes more water on her face and rakes her damp hair back with her fingers.

Yes, she is _so_ not thinking about anything to do with bridges or Tony Stark right now. Clever, kinky Loki. 

He’s standing in front of their table when she returns, taking her hand wordlessly. He doesn’t even wait til they’re outside; they’re back in her apartment and he is scooping her up effortlessly into his arms before Jane knows what hit her.

Her logical brain is still trying to get back in the game – force of habit, maybe – and it poses the logical question: Did Loki pay for their meal? And if so, did he pay them in Asgardian gold? Jane has to giggle at the mental image of the perplexed waiter accepting a handful of coins.

Loki deposits her carefully on her bed, but adds to Jane’s confusion when he doesn’t join her. Instead, he uses his magic to slide a chair from the living room across the floor and to the foot of her bed, and he settles into it. He pulls off his dress shoes and stretches his long legs diagonally across a lower corner of her mattress. He looks like someone who’s about to settle in to watch a movie-

“Tell me whose you are,” he demands, his eyes dark and ravenous.  

Jane blushes all over again – oh yes, you’d definitely think her skin would be tired of that response by now – but her voice is strong and steady when she answers. “Yours.” Impishly, she can’t resist adding: “And you are _mine_.”

He half-smiles at that, but his eyes still smoulder darkly. He reaches up the bed and slips each shoe off her foot, his touch lingering warmly, and then his gaze becomes cunning.

“Pull your dress up around your waist,” he orders. 

Jane shakes her head slightly and bites her lip, obeying slowly.

“Don’t be shy, my lovely one,” he encourages her. “I have seen every inch of you before…and now I want to see again.”

Jane gradually pulls her dress up, very aware that she’s still wearing no panties. His intense gaze makes her want to squirm. She needs to level the playing field, just a little. “And I want to see _you_ ,” she demands. She’s exposed while he’s covered up from neck to toe...déjà vu all over again.

“Do you?” he asks. “Well then, I shall make you a proposal, Jane Foster of Midgard. Show me how you pleasure yourself, and I will allow you to do the same with me.”

Jane starts shaking her head almost by reflex alone. “Look, I, uh…I’m not used to doing things like this, OK? I’m not sure I can-“

“Not sufficient? Hm, perhaps I need to make it easier for you in a different fashion,” he replies. He pulls the scarf from around his neck, balls it up and tosses it between her spread legs. “Blindfold yourself. Then you will not see me watching you.”

Jane stares down at the scarf for a long moment.

“Or,” Loki says regretfully, “I could merely hold you in my arms for the remainder of the evening. Perhaps you are not in fact interested in bedding me tonight.” He stands.

“No!” Jane says, her previously-cheated lust rising to the fore again. Before she can change her mind, she wraps the scarf around her eyes and ties it firmly into place.

She can hear the creak of him sitting down again. And then the rasp of a zipper going down. “You will forgive me, I trust, if I attend to myself regardless?” he asks, his tone teasing.

“No- I mean, yes. Sure,” Jane stammers. 

“I thank you, my love. Please begin,” he says. 

Jane bites her lip, spreading her legs a bit wider, digging her nails into the soft bedspread. 

“More,” he says softly. “Let me see all.”

She does, slowly. Then freezes, a blinded deer in the headlights.

There’s a long, heavy silence.

“Truly, you are entirely a prisoner of your upbringing,” Loki says, and she can tell he’s shaking his head just by the reproaching tone in his voice. “Would it be easier for you if I direct you?”

Jane swallows with difficulty. “I guess so.”

His next words are clipped, commanding. “Open your dress. Now.”

Jane does, feeling inexplicably relieved. 

“Now remove your breast-binding.”

She takes her dress off completely, then the bra, tossing both away. She’s not sure why this is easier for her, but it is. She’s still on display, but her audience is hidden, and she is doing _his_ bidding, not revealing herself. But what would be so bad about revealing how she likes to touch herself?

She doesn’t know the answer to that question.

She hears him shift in the chair. Is he stroking himself? She tries to picture it in her mind.

“Caress yourself,” is his next order. “Start at your throat. Then slide your hands down.”

Her hands are chilly when she tilts her head back on the pillows and allows her fingertips to stroke down the sides of her neck. She lets them skim along her collarbones, then down the top of her chest, finally reaching the starting swells of her breasts. 

“Cup yourself,” he commands, and she does. 

“Your nipples are already tight, my dear. Do they ache to be touched?”

Jane whimpers a little. “Y-yes.”

“Good. Do so. Tease them.”

Driven by need, she pinches and tugs each nipple, lightly at first, and then harder. Her hips twist against the bed and she feels growing wetness between her legs. 

“Lovely,” he says in an approving growl, which spurs Jane to roll her nipples between her fingers, to wriggle down a little further on the bed. Her pulsebeat races, and she can feel the heat climbing through her, gathering now in her chest and face as well as in her belly and core.

“Now slide your hands lower.”

She does, after giving each nipple a final squeeze. She sweeps each hand down either side of her belly, brushing over the slight rise of her navel, and finally stops, each hand caressing the little creases on either side of her sex.

“Wider,” he rumbles urgently. “I want to _see_ , I told you.”

Jane doesn’t even hesitate to comply. It doesn’t even seem to matter any longer if it’s her hands or his. She aches and she _needs_.

She spreads her thighs as wide as she comfortably can. 

“Much better, my wanton little vixen. Now part those lovely petals and show me _all_ as you please yourself."

She whimpers but obeys again. She’s soaking and slippery, her head tilting back on the pillows once more and her breath caught in her throat as she follows the edges of each fold, then strokes tiny circles on the inner surface of each. She starts to slip her fingers up towards her clit-

“No,” he barks, voice like a lash. “Place those fingers inside you instead. I will attend to the centre of your pleasure…when it suits me.”

Christ, he’s _evil_. Fleetingly, she considers disobeying, but pushing two fingers deep inside herself feels good enough for the moment. She moves them in and out quickly, though she stops sometimes to rub them against sensitive places on her inner walls.

Blinded behind the scarf, she loses herself to pleasure, forgetting where she is and that anyone is watching. Forgetting even his command, her thumb slips across her swollen little bud, and she shudders, right at the edge of the abyss- 

He catches her wrist instantly and stills her hand. “I-I’m sorry,” she stutters, realizing too late her mistake. He’s naked to the waist now – when did that happen? – and she can feel his warm flesh pressed against her hot damp skin.

He leans to her ear, soft hair brushing over her face and cheek. “I am sure you are. And I am loathe to punish you when you are working so hard to please me. You have no idea,” he adds in a lower, even more intimate tone, “how beautiful you are right now.”

Jane’s not sure what to say to that. “Uh, thank you?”

“Hm,” is his answer. A second later she can feel him moving on the bed, probably kneeling between her legs, and he gently tugs her fingers out from inside her…and puts them into his mouth instead. Jane moans as he sucks and licks her hand clean. When he slides his tongue between each finger, Jane could swear she feels it between her legs instead, and she whimpers again. “Please,” she groans.

He laughs softly. “Begging already?” She feels his weight shift over to one side of the bed, but he doesn’t release her hand.

Jane blinks in surprise as he starts to wind a rope around her wrist. There’s no magical snakes-into-ropes trick this time, no holding her down just by magic. No, this feels like a conventional rope, and he’s taking his time, winding it unhurriedly around her limb, making sure it isn’t too tight, and then securing her arm to the bedframe.

He moves across her, chest brushing across her stiff nipples, and does the same thing to her other wrist. “You must think me so cruel,” he comments softly as he binds her, “making you wait. But the rewards will be great.”

Jane’s throat works but nothing intelligible forms in her head. He kisses her gently, then moves to bind her ankles to each corner of the bed in the same leisurely, almost relaxed fashion.

She can feel the heavy bulge of him pressing into her thigh as he leans over her again. He’s still wearing his pants, and Jane tries to brace herself for more slow teasing torture.

“Loki, please,” she groans again. _How can he still smell like leather when he isn’t wearing any?_ her distracted brain asks.

“Hush,” he kisses her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. His weight shifts and he presses a kiss into the palm of one of her imprisoned hands, then more slow, wet kisses trail down her arm, right down to a breast. 

She arches as much as she can into his touch, as he nips and suckles lightly on one nipple, his hand toying with the other. 

He slips down even further, and Jane can’t stop a sigh of relief when he settles between her helpless legs. Surely _now_ he’ll touch her, tease her clit, let her come-

But there’s only a single soft swipe of his tongue along the entrance to her body, and then he is off the bed completely. Jane groans out a couple choice curses, and then a few new ones she makes up on the spot just for the occasion. She can feel sweat trickling down her temples and under her arms, the ache between her legs throbbing painfully. He’s going to kill her with frustration, that’s all there is to it.

She hears him leave the room, and Jane tugs hard on her bonds, confused and now a little nervous as well. What is he up to?

She’s pretty sure she hears the door to the apartment open and then close again after a long moment, and she stiffens. That…can’t be good. Did he leave her like this, helpless and alone?

But no, there’s a rustle of cloth back at the foot of the bed, and then Loki circles around to the side, sitting on the edge and leaning over her. 

“My dear Jane,” he says, his voice taking on a velvety note, “I promise I will see to your needs. But first, I wish you to yield to me completely. To do something we spoke of earlier this night.” Gentle fingers trace the slope of her breast then flick lightly at her nipple, and Jane groans.

She furrows her brow, struggling to remember despite the distraction he’s providing. To let him turn female and have sex with her? To use one of his Asgardian toys? Honestly at this point she thinks she’ll agree to anything, if he’ll just let her finally fucking _come._

“Yes, yes, goddamn it,” she says, before her brain can stop her mouth. “Please, just don’t tease me any-“

That’s when a _second_ pair of hands touches her. They settle firmly on her inner thighs, stroking.

Jane shrieks in surprise and jerks against her bonds, but she can’t escape. Her eyes open wide, uselessly pleading behind the blindfold. She’s totally naked and open and exposed, at the mercy of Loki and…a stranger.

“Loki,” she speaks shakily around the lump in her throat, “please, I can’t-“

“But you _agreed_ , my love,” he points out, his tone reasonable and soothing. He rolls her nipple gently and leans down, lips feathering across her ear. 

Jane is quaking now, adrenaline coursing through her system. She tries to block out the sensation of the hands on her legs, still caressing her, and of Loki’s hand still playing with her breast, trying to _think_. “Not fair-“ she argues. “I didn’t know what I was agreeing to!”

“Are you resisting because you are afraid of harm, or resisting because _you think that you should_? If it is the former, fear nothing,” he says softly, his hand smoothing wet strands of hair away from her face and neck. “As I said earlier, I would never select any partner whom I believed capable of harming you in any way. In fact, I have informed my ‘ally’ of the techniques which will best please you, and what manner of things you do _not_ enjoy. And if it is the latter, that you are resisting because of your upbringing, well…we discussed that at length earlier. Have you not enjoyed yielding to me thus far this night?”

Jane’s voice shakes, but she’s not going to start lying now. “Yes,” she admits softly.

“This is a challenge for you, but it is no different than anything else we have done this night. Or indeed, any _other_ bedgame that we have played so far.”

He’s right, of course. How many times has he pushed close to her limits? Covering her with snakes, hunting her through an illusory forest, having sex with her on a dream-throne while a dream-Thor watches, seducing her and binding her in the SHIELD jail? 

He’s probably thinking of the same acts.

“One constant remains: I have never harmed you. Nor do I intend to start now. So, show me that your trust in me is total; surrender yourself completely to us.” He presses kisses along the line of her jaw, even as the other person’s hands caress her softly, moving up her trembling legs.

_ I trust him, I  _ do _,_ she thinks. _But this…this is…_ If she says no, he’ll stop, she knows he will. But does she really want him to? How many other opportunities will she have to do something so wild and, well, _different_ from how she normally acts?

“What is your decision, my dear?” Loki asks. His hand is still cupping her breast, and his other arm must be braced on the pillows over her head; she can feel his fingers lightly caressing her hair. He exhales against her damp neck, and the coolness makes her want to squirm.

She turns her head blindly towards him. “You’ll stop if I want you to? If I change my mind later?” she asks, voice still weak and shaky. 

He kisses her. “Of course, my Jane. That also is constant. Does that mean you are agreeing, then?”

“Yes,” she replies softly. Then she tilts her head back, offering up her neck. Offering _everything_.

He growls something low against her throat, teeth pressing into her skin, though not hard enough to mark her. Every nerve in Jane’s body seems to come alight, hypersensitive to every touch as the _other_ hands slide to either side of her throbbing core.

Loki shifts lower, both hands now holding her breasts and pressing them together so he can move easily from nipple to nipple, suckling hard on each one, and Jane bucks and makes a strangled noise as the other hands between her legs splay her folds apart, and a fingertip circles her clit slowly, deliberately.

Fingers fill her, stimulate her, and something slick – tongue, thumb, she doesn’t even know – finally, _finally_ gives her what she needs, massaging her clit. Every muscle inside and outside clenches and strains, and a long keen is pulled from her lungs as she comes so hard she nearly blacks out.

She’s still panting and shuddering, slumped against her bindings when Loki speaks again. “Did you enjoy that, my dear?” She manages somehow to nod. “Good. But my ally and I barely got to _taste_ you. We must rectify that.”

They move around her, until Jane is no longer sure which is Loki and which is….who could he have brought in? Who does he trust _that_ much?

_ Thor? _ her brain asks. But she pushes that thought away. Even if it’s true that Thor would never ever hurt her, she’s sure Thor is the _last_ person in the universe whom Loki would want to share her with.

Four hands take possession of her, driving all logical thought away. They stroke her all over with gentle fingers, and soon Jane is squirming and straining again. 

They do not speak, but somehow they coordinate their efforts; one mouth claims hers in a feverish kiss while the other nips and nibbles the side of her neck.

They switch their posts, and then they attend to her breasts, warmth and wetness bathing each nipple at the same time, and Jane writhes, overwhelmed.

Jane’s felt something akin to this before, when Loki caressed her entire body with his illusory snakes. This is similar, if only just slightly less overstimulating. Too many pleasure-signals are crowding into her brain, shutting down all higher thought, turning her into one writhing, twisting, drowning collection of sensation.

The twin mouths nip hard and then soothe the pain away with gentler touches, their hands roaming all over her, exploring and testing, teasing. She’s almost grateful that her sight is gone, and that the only sounds are of her noises, plus the occasional wet noise of a mouth on her skin, the muted dry noise of flesh rubbing against flesh…she’s in full-on sensory overload as it is.

One solid male body shifts down and settles between her thighs, and the other stations itself around the level of her hips. She’s not sure she’s ever been so wet before. 

“I see you are enjoying our attentions,” Loki’s voice drifts up to her, but she’s not sure which of her partners is him. A gentle fingertip slips along her folds, spreading the slickness around, and her hips jerk. 

They resume working her, and Jane’s nails dig into her palms, her spine going rigid at the sensation of not one, but two famished mouths on her. One tongue twirls around her clit, pressing and lapping, and another mouth is lower, at the entrance to her body, licking her, slipping into her.

Hands spread her folds wider as they tease her relentlessly, and sensation pulses through her entire body, she feels hot and cold at the same time, and finally her entire body freezes – lungs, throat, muscles, skin – everything locked in an arched pose of total ecstasy, before she screams and dissolves into orgasm.

The delirium recedes, but slowly. She’s free, her arms and legs no longer bound, but she’s as pliable as a rag doll, unable to resist as they pose her the way they want. She’s on her side now, one warm body pressed tightly against her back, an erection pressing into the back of her leg like a bar of pulsing steel.

Loki’s voice sounds in her ear again. “I would wager you have at least one more climax to give this night,” he chuckles, voice low and husky. He’s the one behind her, as far as she can tell.

Jane blinks rapidly behind the blindfold, trying to restore some sense to her addled brain. 

The stranger is still in bed with them; his body presses against her front, with strong, lean hands trapping her wrists against his belly. She can feel his arousal, too, the head pressed against her fingers, and he’s just as turned on as Loki.

“Hold her still while I prepare myself,” Loki orders the mystery guest. Jane feels Loki roll away from her, and then there’s the familiar sound of foil ripping. She feels a small measure of relief; at least that aspect of their ‘arrangement’ hasn’t changed.

Though an unsettling thought occurs - will Loki allow, or even demand, that the other man also have intercourse with her? The thought makes her shiver, torn between too many emotions to be able to even identify one.

Loki crowds against her back again, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the side of her neck as his hand pulls her thigh upward. The person in front of her shifts his grip, holding her wrists firmly with one hand while his other slips between her thighs, parting her inner lips to ease Loki’s way into her, his palm rubbing against her sweet spot and forcing a moan from her.

Loki thrusts hard into her, pushing her forward into the other man’s chest, and Jane makes a noise that sounds rather like a squeal. Loki laughs in her ear and pulls out quickly, before thrusting back inside her just as ruthlessly.

Even if Jane wanted to resist coming again, it would be impossible. The stranger isn’t idle, his mouth busy with her breasts, suckling and tugging. And as Jane’s cries rise in pitch, his hand continues to rub her clit in firm circles that make her inner muscles clench even tighter around Loki.

She’s seconds away from another bout of ecstasy when the stranger pulls his hand away, and Jane wants to shriek in frustration. But just then the blindfold is pulled from her eyes. She squints as she tries to focus. The face of the stranger in front of her is pale, dark-haired. 

Oh my God, it’s _Loki._

Somehow, he fooled her. It’s the stranger who’s deep inside her right now, still thrusting but at a less frantic pace-

Jane twists her head back to look over her shoulder at…another _Loki_.

“Wh-what the f-?” She can’t even complete the sentence.

Both Lokis laugh. “Forgive me,” purrs the one behind her, “but I have waited patiently all night to empty myself into that delectable quim of yours.”

_ Did he just say… _ quim _?_ Jane doesn’t know whether to laugh or…well, _laugh._

Loki thrusts inside her again and all other desires are washed away. The Loki in front of her now strokes himself, watching hungrily, and then blows Jane’s mind completely by positioning himself so the head of his cock is pressed against her clit. He rubs it against her in a way that forces every last rational thought right out of her mind, and as the Loki behind her goes rigid and grunts, releasing his passion at last, the Loki in front of her now presses the underside of his shaft between her legs, thrusting against her belly and stroking his shaft against her clit, and Jane’s entire body seems to disappear. There’s only spasm and heat and the boundaries between all of their bodies shifting and blending together into one.

Jane floats, blissfully, for a long time. When she opens her eyes at last – heck, she hadn’t even realized they had been closed! – there’s only one Loki in bed with her now, spooning with her, hands gently massaging her. 

Slowly, lethargically, she turns until she can face him. “That was…” she shakes her head. 

“Wonderful, dare I hope?” he asks, but smugly, hands caressing her back. 

“Hell, _yes_. If you’re trying to stop me from building my Bifröst by killing all my brain cells, I’d say that was a pretty effective means.”

He snorts derisively. “Hardly. I am sure your intellect is quite safe.” He pulls her firmly to him and rolls until she is cradled on his chest.

“That was quite a trick,” she says sleepily.

“Indeed,” he agrees. “A trick which is useful in more than one setting, I have found,” he adds, though he does not elaborate. 

“One thing I don’t get, though - why bother opening the apartment door? And all that business about ‘telling your ally what I like’? Why make me think it was another man-“ Jane sits up and glares at him, though it’s half-hearted at best. “Oh, I get it. Mind-fucking me.”

He smirks. “God of Mischief, my love. I am afraid it comes with the territory.” 

Jane sighs, but he’s right, isn’t he? Her brain repeats the litany of things he’s done that have tested her limits in the past: Covering her with snakes, hunting her through an illusory forest, having sex with her on a dream-throne…”Can I at least ask _why_?”

His arms tighten around her, draw her back down to him. She feels him shrug as he weighs his words. “Frankly, because I enjoy it. Also, in my vast experience momentary anxiety – a _small_ amount – yields great rewards later. Do you deny that the tricks I pulled on you tonight did not add a touch of…spice? Did it not increase your pleasure, once you overcame your fear?”

Jane shakes her head and sighs. “No, I don’t deny it. I just don’t always find it…comfortable.”

He’s silent for another long moment. “This is who I am. However, as I also said, if you do not find pleasure in something we are doing, we need not do such again. I am nothing if not adaptable.”

Jane shakes her head. “No, I’m not saying to change who you are. But maybe I’d like a little less of a…challenge next time?” 

“Understandable. I do not require to play the trickster _all_ the time.” His arms squeeze her a little tighter as he smirks down at her.

“You can do pretty much anything, can’t you?” she asks. The realism of his clone had been…remarkable. 

She can feel his answering shrug. “I am a master of magic and illusion. This you know. Though I admit, if put to it, that I much prefer to use my magic for …pleasurable pursuits, such as this one.”

Jane smiles. “Despite the tough moments, I’m not complaining. Overall this was quite a memorable – and _enjoyable_ – celebration. Thank you.”

“You are quite welcome.” He pulls her up for a deep, slow kiss. “Sleep, my Jane.”

That’s one order she has absolutely no qualms about obeying.

*~*~*

Two days later Jane finds herself in New York, meeting with Tony Stark at his famed – and still under reconstruction – Stark Tower.

She still hasn’t quite worked up the nerve to dress a little more casually, and it amuses her how Pepper gives her a slight nod of approval, while Tony looks equal parts amused and exasperated at her formal dress when they both meet her at the Tower’s helipad.

“Dr. Foster,” Tony says, shaking her hand. “Glad you could make it. Would you like the ten-cent tour?”

“Sure,” Jane says with a grin.

“Then I’ll just leave you in Tony’s capable hands, if you don’t mind,” says Pepper. “I have a lot of work to do right now, and besides, I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your tech-talk.” She shakes hands with Jane, winks at Tony, and then strides away so confidently on her high heels that Jane envies her.

“Doctor?” Tony asks, holding his elbow out for her to take.

“I thought we were on first-name basis,” Jane points out, doing just that.

“So we are,” he remembers. “Jane, then.”

The place is impressive, even if it’s still only two-thirds rebuilt, though that only serves to remind Jane that _Loki_ ’s army had caused the damage.

If he is aware of her discomfort, Tony says nothing. Soon Jane is too delighted to dwell on the negative – the R&D department is a scientist’s wet dream. So much space, so many computers, so many technicians…

“Wow, this is amazing!” she gushes, as they turn into another room. She stops dead, looking at the wall of Iron Man suits. He’s brought her into his own personal lab space?

“Prototypes,” he says almost dismissively, waving at them. “None of them actually work – I keep all of the _successful_ ones at my  Malibu beachhouse. Can’t bear to trash these ones, though – never know when tinkering with them might give me some new ideas.”

Jane nods. “I’ve got a similar problem with old notes and equations, old equipment. You never know, right?”

Tony grins at her. “I’ll bet the corners of your lab look like a tornado hit it.”

Jane grins right back. “You have no idea. Until I hired Darcy, anyway. She may not get the science, but she knows how to _organize_ , when she’s motivated enough. Slipping on fallen papers and almost breaking her neck two or three times was enough for her.”

“Maybe I should hire her, myself,” Tony jokes. “Here, let me show you the room where you’ll be working.” He leads her to the elevator and they go down about two floors, then turn into a large room. It’s at the edge of the Tower and so is ringed by windows, and there’s already a whiteboard, a smartboard, and a bank of computers poised and apparently waiting for her.

“Jarvis!” Tony says loudly. “Say hi to our new colleague, Dr. Jane Foster.”

“Doctor Foster,” says a disembodied voice, its clipped tones eerily reminiscent of Loki’s. “Welcome.”

“That’s Jarvis. He’s the resident computer ‘round here. You want to run a simulation or plot a planet’s gravitational pull or whatever, Jarvis is your man. Well, sort of.” Tony pats a bank of monitors almost fondly.

“OK,” Jane replies.

“Here, I’ll show you the interface. It’s pretty user-friendly, though,” Tony says, motioning her over.

It _is_ pretty easy. Even Jane, who isn’t all that computer-savvy, knows how to talk and gesture after all.

There is one obvious thing missing from these rooms, though. “Can I ask you a question, Mr. Stark?”

“An uncomfortable one, I’d guess,” he says, noticing her return to formality.

“It’s just that, I kind of expected you might have Loki’s portal – from the Battle of Manhattan – here. Or just a simulation of it on the computer? It _was_ a working model, and it could at least give me some idea as to whether I’m on the right track or not.”

“SHIELD has it sequestered somewhere, hopefully in several thousand pieces. Honestly, Jane, I don’t really like alien tech anyway. I prefer to rely on good ol’ All-American know-how. I realize how easy it must be to second-guess yourself, especially after all the other scientists have been making fun of your ideas over the years-“

Jane feels her face turn predictably red. “It didn’t help,” she agrees. “It’s a good thing I’m stubborn.”

“Sure is,” Tony says. “My Dad used to say the same about me. But anyway, my point is that I don’t think you need the alien portal; I’ll put my money on you and your theories regardless.” He cocks his head. “Can I ask _you_ a probably-uncomfortable question?”

“OK,” Jane says cautiously. 

“Loki was the one who got Selvig to build him that portal. So why isn’t he helping – if not _forcing_ – you?” Tony’s question isn’t accusing, but his eyes search her face shrewdly.

Jane frowns. “To be honest I…never really thought about that. We don’t talk about my work that much, like I told you the other day. Up until recently I didn’t even really _want_ to know what had happened back then, I guess.” She shakes her head at how weak that sounds. “He was being…good to me, and I guess I didn’t want to face the fact that he’d done evil, and therefore the possibility that the way he was being with me might all be an act. But once I heard him telling his story to Fury-“ She stops and shrugs.

“I know how it sounds,” she starts to say, resigned to the idea of Tony kicking her out then and there.

But he’s shaking his head. “No, no judgment here. Lord knows I’ve made my share of bad decisions when it comes to relationships – I’m sure Pepper has a _list_ of them somewhere.”

Jane smiles a little. “Then again, I don’t know if Loki really needs to build one for himself,” she continues. “He managed to get here somehow from Asgard, even though we know their Bifröst isn’t operational yet…. _Wait_ ,” Jane says as a new thought occurs to her: “Erik built Loki’s portal once, so…couldn’t he build it again?” _Would he want to?_ asks the doubting little voice. 

“SHIELD’s tried, trust me. They asked, but Doc Selvig said he didn’t remember squat. He tried anyway, I think, for a week or two, once Fury gave him some pep talk about world security or something, but no dice. Rumour is that Loki’s magic wiped the Doc’s memory of those key details after he was released from mind-control. Even if Loki had won the  Battle, I doubt he’d want to chance having a single human around who was capable of bringing over reinforcements from Asgard.”

Despite the fact that Jane believes in Loki, and believes him – _I do_ , she insists to herself – she can’t help wondering what would have happened to her had Loki won that day. Would he have razed every country to the ground until he’d found the base in Tromsø where SHIELD had tucked her away? And if he had captured her then, what would have been her fate at his hands?

The negative little voice laughs mockingly. _Not much different from now, maybe? Except he’d have kept you naked (or maybe in a metal bikini, à la Princess Leia) and chained up permanently on your knees. But who knows, probably you’d have_ liked _that._

Jane shoves the thought away and straightens her shoulders. “Well,” she tries, keeping her voice calm and bright. “Maybe I should get started, then? As long as you still approve. I wouldn’t blame you if you’ve changed your mind, Mr. Stark.”

Tony studies her for a long moment, then smiles. “Like I said, I’ll put my money on you. Shall we make arrangements to ship your research equipment and notes over here?”

Jane agrees, and they go to Pepper’s office to work out the details, Jane silently reflecting to herself that she has some uncomfortable questions for a certain God of Mischief.

Also a fair share of guilt, because how much would Erik love to be in on this project, now that it might finally end up somewhere – _literally_? She really needs to go talk to him, to try to apologize to him again.

 

*~*~*

Jane has supper alone that night, her brain once again buzzing with excitement and details to work out. Tony wants Jane and Darcy to work out of Stark Tower, and though Jane had said yes earlier, now she wonders how exactly this will all work.

Darcy probably won’t mind moving into Stark Tower for the duration – the furnished apartments Pepper had shown Jane had sure been impressive! – but Jane is less certain. She’s just starting to get used to _this_ place. Heck, she hasn’t even had a chance to fully unpack yet!

And there’s also the problem of Loki.

Jane doesn’t feel all that comfortable seeing Loki while literally under Tony’s roof (isn’t it the exact place where Loki had been defeated?), and she doubts Loki or Tony will be happy either.

But given neither Fury nor Tony had asked her to stop seeing Loki, Jane figures who or what she does on her own time is her business. She promised not to discuss the specifics of Stark-Foster with Loki, and that’s fine, but that’s as far as it goes. 

After some thought, Jane supposes the best option would be to ask Loki if he is willing to use his teleportation magic to shuttle her between  New York and Puente Antiguo each day. It’s not ideal, but she thinks he’ll like that idea better than only seeing her on weekends, or having to meet on Stark’s territory.

She’ll need to find a neutral place close to Stark Tower for them to meet up, and for Loki to teleport her to and from…could that work?

As the sky outside darkens, she knows she doesn’t want to spend the rest of the night alone. But that means confronting Loki, and now not only does she have some uncomfortable questions for him, but there’s also these new working arrangements to negotiate.

Finally she sighs and climbs up to the roof again. The light pollution in Puente Antiguo isn’t as bad as in a big city, and she can pick out many of her favourite constellations quickly and easily.

This time she doesn’t even need to summon Loki. Five minutes after she settles into her deck chair, there’s that change in air pressure that she’s become familiar with, and he’s folding his tall bulk into the chair next to hers.

It’s chilly in the desert at night, and she doesn’t protest when he gently pulls her into his lap and wraps his arms around her.

“Another productive day?” he asks, his breath warming the crown of her head. 

Jane nods slowly. Best to just jump in right away. Hasn’t failed her yet, right? “Can I ask you something, Loki?”

He raises a brow. “Have I ever stopped you before?” he counters calmly.

“It’s about the portal you had Erik build,” she says quietly. His body stiffens against hers, but his voice sounds almost disinterested when he answers.

“Ask.”

“If you know how to build one, why not…do it?”

“But I do _not_ know, my Jane. Like the Bifröst itself, such magic – or science, if you prefer – is beyond me. The knowledge given to Dr. Selvig came directly from the Tesseract itself.”

Jane lets out a slow breath. It sounds reasonable to her. “The more I hear about this Tesseract, the happier I am that I never actually got to use it to fuel my Bridge. I’m no judge, but it sounds like the darkest of magic.”

Loki shakes his head, hair brushing Jane’s cheek. “The Tesseract is not evil. Like all magic, it is neutral. The nature of the magic depends on _who_ uses it.”

“OK,” Jane says slowly. Again, it seems logical. “Then how did _you_ get here without a Bifröst, if you didn’t build your own portal?”

“Yggdrasil is full of hidden pathways, links between one place and the next, bends in space and time. They are not obvious to those without the sight to see them, but to a mage such as I…” Loki shrugs. 

Jane nods and snuggles closer to Loki, staring up at the stars wheeling slowly overhead.

“What would you have done if you had won the Battle of Manhattan?” she asks softly after long minutes.

She feels him startle a little at her question. “I would not have. I saw to it.”

“But if you had?” she pressed gently. Why does she care so much? Because she wants so badly to hear him say that ultimately he never would have hurt her, regardless of the circumstances under which they first met?

“I would _not_ have. Your Doctor Selvig was there, conveniently poised near the portal to turn it off once someone – even me, surreptitiously, if necessary - prized him from the grip of the staff. Or the metal man with whom you are working would have realized the power in his heart-star is sister enough to the Tesseract’s power to close the gate. Perhaps Thor would have found a way to close the gate, or murdered all who came through it. Or,” Loki hesitates, as if he can predict her objection, “your Midgardian authorities would have unleashed their weapons on the city. One bomb alone was enough to destroy the source of the Chitauri army. I am sure it would have done much the same on the Midgardian side of the portal.”

“And everyone would have died,” Jane protests sharply.

Loki gives a long-suffering sigh. “One city lost, but your planet saved. I know that does not please you. Nor would it have pleased me, in truth, but sometimes we must do what is necessary, rather than what is preferable.” He shakes his head, then catches her chin and looks her directly in the eyes. “I was forced to leave many things to chance – I had no choice – but in the end, there were many avenues through which my defeat was assured. So no, I will not speculate what I would have done with my victory – it was never to come to pass.”

“OK,” Jane agrees. “I was…just wondering.”

It sounds lame in her ears, but Loki nods and seems satisfied. He pulls her closer, and they stare up at the stars again. Jane wonders if Loki can somehow see Asgard, or would even want to. Is he starting to think of Earth as his home? 

Or perhaps a better question is: _Could_ he?

_ Speaking of home _ \- “There’s something else we need to talk about. Stark wants me to work in  New York for the foreseeable future…”

*~*~*

Jane slinks across the stage, moving her hips in time to the music. The lights glare into her eyes so that she can barely see her audience, but it doesn’t matter. _He_ is here again, and he’s really the only person she’s dancing for.

He’s been here every night since she can remember. Dark suit, white shirt, pale skin. Black hair, slicked back but curling at the ends, as if his hair is trying to escape confinement. She’s never heard his voice, but those dark eyes speak volumes to her as they watch her gyrations so closely.

She’s wearing a schoolgirl outfit for this particular performance. She grasps the pole and swings herself slowly around, then comes to a stop in front of Dark Suit, as she has come to call him in her mind. She twirls a pigtail and pops a button on her white blouse, ignoring the catcalls and whistles from all the other faceless patrons in the audience. They seem to recede and fade, until there’s only _him_.

She opens another two buttons, slowly, meeting his eyes as she gets down on her knees and crawls slowly towards him, in time to the slow pulse of the music, her sultry gaze matching his smouldering one. 

His gaze tracks down her face, then lower, getting an eyeful of cleavage. She watches the way his tongue darts out to moisten his thin lips.

She crawls forward until she’s almost at the edge of the stage, then she sits back on her heels, unbuttoning the shirt completely. Smirking, she tosses it to Dark Suit. He catches it easily, a leer on his handsome face now. 

Jane rises and walks slowly back to the middle of the stage, timing each gliding step to the music. She hooks her leg around the pole and spins around it once more, then stops and leans her back on the pole as she gradually lowers the zipper of her little pleated miniskirt. 

She drops it on the ground and turns away from the audience, moving her hips in a slow wide circle, making sure Dark Suit gets a good view of her emerald green lingerie before she starts to remove that. 

She turns to face the front again, then sashays slowly towards him. May as well give Dark Suit a good close-up view. 

Elegantly, he pulls something out of his jacket pocket and holds it up. Smirking, Jane lets him tuck it into the top of her black stocking, noticing how dexterous those pale, long fingers are.

She glances down and notices it’s not money, though. _Huh?_

The lights and music suddenly cut out, leaving her in total silence and darkness. She turns, disoriented, and then finds herself alone backstage, not knowing how she got there. Blinking in the dim lighting, she pulls the slip of paper out of her stocking and opens it to reveal a note written in an elaborate script: ‘May I request the pleasure of a private dance? – Loki’.

The thought of doing that for _him_ makes desire spike in her belly. And just as she thinks it, there she is in the private room. There’s a padded chair, but also a padded booth and a small table, and there sits Dark Suit – no, _Loki_ – himself. Slouched down, legs spread wide, and his eyes devouring her every move.

“My lady,” he says, inclining his head towards her. Such overblown manners, even when it’s obvious from the heat in his gaze and the restless twitch in his hands that he _wants_ her.

She smiles and struts over to stand between his legs. “Loki,” she says, tasting the strange name in her mouth. She lets her thigh brush against his, then bends until their faces are level – given his height, even seated, Jane doesn’t need to bend very much at all.

She leans to his ear, letting their cheeks graze against each other. “I’ve seen you around more than once,” she whispers. “How long have you been watching me?”

“Long enough to kindle a fire in my loins which only you can extinguish,” he purrs roughly. “If you so choose, of course, Jane.”

She furrows her brow as she pulls back – did someone tell him her real name? – but she shakes her head as she goes to turn on the music. Something slow, low, and sultry. She decides she doesn’t care that he knows her name. He’s dangerous, yes, but somehow not in _that_ way.

Jane stalks slowly back to Loki, placing light hands on his knees and sliding them slowly up along his thighs. His fingers press into the cushions on either side of him, his dark gaze stopped on her cleavage again.

She turns and seats herself in his lap, pressing herself back against the bulge in his pants, moving her hips in tight circles. She flips her hair back, well aware of how it will fall, light and ticklish over his head and face, and she pretends not to notice how his hands are now on her hips, warm and grazing lightly over the bones. The fire banked within her is building fast.

She wheels and faces him again, their faces inches apart. “I don’t always take my clothes off in private dances. But I want to, this time. Can I trust you to be a gentleman?”

He laughs softly. “That would depend on your definition of ‘gentleman’, would it not? If you mean, will I be able keep my hands to myself? Unlikely. If you mean will I make you peak so hard that you will see constellations you never before imagined, then yes. But again, only if you so choose.” His eyes glitter dangerously at her, threaten to consume her whole.

Jane swallows hard but she can’t deny she wants this. Moth to a flame, and she _wants_ to be consumed.

She doesn’t answer him, not verbally, but she walks a pace or two away and reaches behind her, unhooking her bra and tossing it to him. It almost undoes her when he lifts it to his nose and breathes in the scent of her skin, his eyes burning into hers.

“Come here,” he says, his voice a gravel-edged purr that makes her want to go to her knees.

So she does, crawling back toward him, though it’s more like a prowl. Strong hands wrap around her upper arms like manacles as soon as she is close enough, and she is lifted into Loki’s lap as if she is no heavier than a feather. 

Rough hands find her breasts as they kiss, rolling and squeezing her nipples, her moans muffled by his tongue. His hands are colder than she expects, and her nipples throb. 

He doesn’t just break the kiss; he grabs her shoulders and pulls them roughly apart, his teeth scraping against her as he starts kissing (if it could be called that) her neck. Jane moans and twines her fingers in his hair.

He does the same to her, catching her hair and pulling it enough to cant her head back at an almost-uncomfortable angle as his mouth sears its way down her breasts. 

He nips each one, then he picks her up with an inhuman speed and puts her down on the room’s small table. His eyes rake down her body, lingering on the bruises adorning her neck. Jane feels a sharp tug and gasps, her panties coming apart as he ruthlessly rips them from her.

Loki pulls the table closer to the banquette, then sits down and pulls on her hips until his face is positioned between her quivering thighs. He trails a single finger down the length of her sex, from clit to her entrance. “So very wet for me,” he murmurs huskily, barely allowing Jane time to even out her breaths before he buries his head between her legs. 

Her head hangs off the edge of the table, her nails digging into cheap wood veneer as he works her hard. He sucks on her clit, over and over, pulling it briefly into his mouth and letting it go each time. Jane pants and twists, but he won’t let her escape the agonizing pleasure. Then he takes the little nub in his mouth and sucks on it while flicking his tongue around it, gently at first but then more aggressively, long fingers applying pressure from inside her, and noise spills from her arched throat.

He stops just as her muscles start to tighten. “Not yet,” he snarls. “I want to feel your body clench around me.” Jane struggles to raise her head as there is the unmistakable rasp of a zipper going down, but her neck muscles are too weak. 

A strong hand wraps around the back of her neck, supporting her and pulling her closer to him as he pushes hard inside her. She cries out and his gaze shifts from their joining to her face, scorching her like burning embers.

He shoves inside her, over and over, one hand still around her neck like a collar, the other reaching between them to play with a nipple here, to press her clit there, and she can’t stop her climax even if she wanted to, waves of fire racing through her, building, cresting- 

As she falls screaming over the edge she realizes he was right – she _is_ seeing stars-

Jane wakes sweaty and disoriented, blinking at the darkness around her. She first notices the headboard of the bed – _her_ bed, she realizes, as sanity returns – then she fumbles for her watch under the pillow.  3:02am. She turns and looks to her side, expecting the bed to be empty of anyone except her.

But no, a pale, firmly-muscled chest meets her gaze. Loki hasn’t left, he’s still here, and he seems to be asleep. His face is more relaxed, vulnerable, and calm than it ever is when he’s awake. There’s something so sad about that.

She resists the urge to touch him and disturb that peace. Unless- is he faking? Her dream comes back to her with a clarity that makes her tingle.

He had invited her to come up with fantasy scenarios for them to enact, and now here she is, dreaming of stripping and dancing for him? It can’t be a coincidence, can it?

But if he is awake and messing with her dreams, he is playing the sleeper very well – or has an amazing illusion over himself – with his deep, slow breaths, even a mild little snore here and there.

Then Jane wonders if it’s possible that he is somehow, even asleep, influencing her dreams. But he seems too calm, too relaxed to have just been participating in such a wild dream. Not that Jane is an expert on such things. Still, she can’t resist peeking under the covers. No, he’s not even slightly aroused….again, unless what she’s seeing is illusion.

She shakes her head at herself. Will she ever get over doubting him? She’s started to get annoyed about that even with herself. 

Jane rolls over and tries to turn her thoughts to other things. Well, anything except the Stark-Foster Project, because thinking about that will no doubt wreck any chance of getting any more sleep that she has.

She finds herself thinking instead about the dream, replaying it in her mind. Dare she ask him to create that kind of scenario?

Jane considers it for a long moment, but then shakes her head again. As intriguing as it would be, she’s just not that confident! No illusion in the world is going to erase her natural awkwardness and turn her into some slinky sex kitten. And, hot dream aside, that’s not a role that has ever really appealed to her.

There have to be other things she can suggest. Yes, maybe one of the ideas he floated in the restaurant. Or maybe something related to Norse mythology? That could be interesting, and it would kill two birds with one stone – not only would she get ideas for bedroom play, but it would give her something else to talk about with Loki, something _safe_. She’s pretty sure he’ll enjoy picking apart the human versions of these myths, telling her everything that’s wrong about them, and maybe in telling her what’s _right_ , she’ll learn more about him and Asgard.

Yes, she definitely needs to do some _research_ on this. That is, after all, what she does best.  


*~*~*

Loki materializes in the desert a short distance from what he has come to think of as ‘Jane’s city’. It is early morning, and though Jane has much work to do this day at her laboratory, in preparation to work with the metal man, Loki knows she is not there, not yet.

She’d said she was going to go and speak to Selvig first, and though it is tempting to listen to them, Loki turns his attention away from her just as she knocks at the door of Selvig’s current abode in the city. 

Loki checks his warning-spells methodically, but as usual finds nothing. No sign of alien magic, no sign of the Chitauri. His warning-spells are silent once again.

He sighs and seats himself on a nearby rock, gazing out at the arid expanse of the desert.

Too curious to resist, he stretches his senses back towards Jane again, then he frowns darkly, feeling her agitation. She and Selvig are arguing. It is too difficult to keep from listening in:

_ “You know what he is, Jane. He’s evil. He concocted some pretty story to lull us all, but I was his slave for  _ months _. He’s not to be trusted.”_

_ “Erik, please. He’s  _ done _evil, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he_ is _evil. Everyone does the wrong thing sometimes. Maybe it’s just when you’re a god, the fallout is that much bigger when you screw up. He’s never done anything to hurt me-“_

_ “Will you listen to yourself?! Even the most lovesick fool-“ _

Loki sighs heavily and turns his attention away as the yelling continues. He cannot blame Selvig for not trusting him, but he does not like the effect Selvig’s anger is having on Jane.

He tries to force his mind to other thoughts, but alas, he has little else to think about! 

Though he cannot expect Jane to share every moment of her days and nights with him, he finds little else to occupy his time with these days. He’s uncharacteristically adrift, and though in one sense it is restful, not having to scheme and keep track of multiple lies, in another sense it can be wearyingly _boring_.

Pulling pranks on humans does not really entertain him, as it is far too easy. This is not aided by the fact that he suspects if Jane knew, it would lessen her opinion of him. He’s not certain what concerns him most about that – her opinion of him, or the fact that he _cares_ about her opinion of him.

His awareness drifts back to Jane and Selvig again.

Jane is apparently trying another tack: _“Could we forget about Loki for a second? I’m here to ask you to work on the portal with me. Let’s share this moment in scientific history, Dad would’ve wanted that-“_

_ “Please, Jane! Think about what you are saying! Loki forced me to build him that thing so he could bring his army through to destroy our world. Now you’re going to build another one, and what makes you think that the first time you open it, Loki won’t have another army waiting on the other side again! Your father would be  _ appalled _that you are even_ considering _-“_

_ “Even if you don’t trust my judgment these days, what about Thor’s? He left Loki here with me. He knows Loki and I are together, and he’s allowing it to happen. Heck, I think he even gave Loki his blessing. Thor is fine with Loki being here, and Fury and Stark are both cooperating with me to build this portal. You really think Loki is mind-controlling all three of them… _ and _me?”_

Jane is yelling now, and Loki grimaces and turns back to continue his original line of thought:

As pleasurable as it is, he cannot spend all his time planning new depravities to visit upon Jane. Still, his last lecherous scheme had been well-received by her, despite her momentary fears…he savours the memory of the look on her face when she’d realized she was in bed with two _hims_! Truly, such are the only pranks he thoroughly enjoys pulling these days.

But no, other than dreaming up new bedroom acts, there is not much else for him to do, so in the absence of a need to scheme, he has spent the rest of his recent days reverting to another old pastime of his: _spying_. He has tried to resist watching Jane as much as possible, spending most of his time watching the mortals of SHIELD instead. Though he suspects Jane would also not approve of either of _those_ activities.

However, SHIELD does not seem to be planning much of anything to do with him. Their paltry attempts to prepare themselves for a possible Chitauri attack in the future exasperate him, but as yet Fury has not allowed his pride to sink to asking Loki for help. Very well, it is their choice. Foolhardy as it is.

Loki _had_ watched Jane and Stark, so he had anticipated her probing questions. Her doubts grate at him, yet he knows he has little cause to complain. She has given him so much already, and all of it on faith. 

He turns his attention back to her now. Jane seems calmer, but also despairing.

_ “Will you break things off with him, then?” _

_ “No, Erik. He needs me, and I need him.”  _

There’s a pause, and Loki can imagine Jane choosing her next words carefully.

_ “But I also need you. You’re family. You’ve been my family since before Dad died, and especially after. Mom and I aren’t speaking any more. Do we need to be estranged from each other over this?” _

Loki shifts uncomfortably, listening as Selvig’s voice finally gentles.

_ “No, I suppose not. But I need...time. I don’t trust Loki, period. And frankly, I don’t really trust Fury either, especially after he lied about Coulson. I am here for you, Jane. But not when it comes to anything to do with Loki, and that means the portal. Working on it would be helping  _ him _, and I can’t do that. If you manage to get it to work, and you open a way to Asgard and Odin himself walks through to greet humanity and pat Loki on the back, then I’ll eat my words. But until that day…”_

A silence hangs between the two mortals, and Loki is unable to turn away.

_ “I don’t trust Fury either. But I’m making this portal for  _ me, _not anyone else. And working with SHIELD is the only way I can make all those years of hard work with no support_ mean _something. I wish you were involved, but I won’t stop if you refuse. Please understand though, Erik, that I love you.”_

Uncomfortable all over again without truly knowing why – Jane’s love for Selvig is not a threat to their arrangement, Loki _knows_ this - he jerks his attention away once more, staring out across the desert. 

He’d told Jane that he did not wish to bring pain to her, but it seems that he is doomed to do so, no matter how good his intentions.

*~*~*

Jane slowly closes the door of Erik’s apartment behind her and walks in the direction of the lab, her first few strides slow and halting as she wipes tears from her cheeks.

_ Well, that is _ not _how I wanted things to go_ , she sighs to herself.

Still, her words to Erik – that she loved him, that he was family to her – seemed to have struck a chord. Maybe she just needs to wait, give him a week or two, and then try reaching out to him again. There’s no harm in trying, anyway.

She takes a few deep breaths and tries her best to calm herself. She has a lot of things to organize this morning, and no more time for distractions. 

But as she makes her way to the edge of town and turns towards the lab, the thought occurs that, except for her problems with Erik, she actually feels... _happy_.

Before Thor, when it had just been her and Darcy, and sometimes Erik when he was visiting, Jane would have described herself as content. But now, with proof that other worlds exist, with her portal on the verge of being built and maybe even _functional_ , and with things with Loki getting better all the time…yes, she’s actually happy, for the first time in a long time.

_ Happy_. 

Smiling now, Jane walks past her old trailer, making a mental note to follow up with Izzy and her potential buyer as soon as possible. At least Loki had agreed to Jane’s notion to teleport her to and from Stark Tower every workday, so that’s one living arrangement issue seen to.

Jane checks her watch. Darcy should be here within the hour, which will hopefully give Jane some time to decide which notes are key to take, and to start to set aside some of the smaller instruments and equipment she plans to take to Stark Tower-

Jane freezes, staring out past the lab. There’s a strange, prickly feeling in the desert air. What’s going on? 

The sounds from the town behind her seem oddly muted, and her heartbeat too loud in contrast.

It’s almost like what happened when Loki and Thor fought, but instead of seeing something, this time she  _ feels _ something. Jane frowns; are they at it again? She walks quickly behind her trailer to the place they fought, but the sensation fades away. She returns to her original position, and the sensation grows stronger again as she does so. Curious, she continues walking, changing course every time the sensation weakens again. She is soon walking away from the lab, deeper into the desert. She doesn’t know how long she walks for, but soon she can no longer see Puente Antiguo when she turns and looks behind her. Jane stops dead at that point, feeling like every hair on her body is standing on end.

_ What the hell is going on? Is it Lok- _

Jane is wrenched bodily from the ground and straight up into the air, the force of it making her head snap painfully forward on her neck.

And she doesn’t stop.

For a fascinated moment, Jane watches the ground fall away from beneath her, getting smaller and smaller in an insane reverse skydive. There’s no sound but the rushing of the wind past her ears and her own gasping breaths. She’s being held by what feels like a net or a blanket wrapped around her – but when she tears her eyes from the sight below her, she sees nothing on and around her but empty air. 

Then the fear hits and Jane screams at the top of her lungs. Nothing changes, she doesn’t stop or slow, and Jane screams again, her body twisting and struggling even though part of her brain is screaming at her to stop- _If you get free, you fall and you die! You DIE!_ But whatever is holding her is too strong.

Some tiny, distant part of her still wonders if Loki is doing this, pulling some new mind-fuck. If any second now he’ll materialize in mid-air and smile at her and somehow make this seem OK.

But as the ground gets even smaller, the air becomes thinner and thinner, and as black spots start to crowd out Jane’s vision and blood begins to drip from her nose, she thinks that no, this can’t be Loki.

Mercifully, Jane’s body chooses that moment to pass out.

*~*~*

Loki has no warning whatsoever. One moment, he is idly following Jane’s slow progress towards her lab, and wondering how he will fill the endless idle moments until she is done working on her portal for this day.

The next, there is a circle of Chitauri standing around him. Perhaps twenty of them.

They snarl and point their weapons, but even taken unawares (rare enough as that is), Loki of Asgard is still a warrior and a mage. 

A breath later, there are _two_ Lokis for every Chitauri, some standing in front and some behind the aliens. 

Confused, the Chitauri run amok, firing fruitlessly at duplicates, though usually hitting their fellows instead. This gives Loki plenty of leisure to first teleport himself a safe distance away, then to conjure his golden plate armor, and finally to draw his daggers.

He cloaks himself in invisibility and then returns to the fray, leisurely picking off one-by-one any Chitauri who have thus far managed to escape massacre by their fellows.

When the last Chitauri grunts and gives up its pathetic life at the end of Loki’s dagger, he gazes across the bloodied sand mounded with dead, and reflects that truly, he is not surprised that such were beaten by mere mortals. 

Indeed, it is barely a victory to have vanquished such paltry warriors.

He supposes with a weary sigh that he will have to inform SHIELD of this happenstance. They will want to ‘contain’ it, no doubt. But at least they will call upon him for aid now, will they not? With this evidence of probable future alien attacks before them? 

It may give him something else to do, to fill his days here.

Almost absently, he reaches out to sense where Jane is. She was surely too far away to even see this battle, let alone be affected by it-

He cannot  _ feel _ her. 

Loki’s eyes widen, and he reaches out with a stronger thread of magic, but the result is the same. 

No Jane.

Emotion twists in his gut, sharper than any sword, but it is only once he teleports himself to her last known location that he is willing to identify to himself what it is. 

Panic.

He shoves it aside, reaching for anger. It will serve him better. _Think, fool,_ he curses himself.

_ Is it not a weakness, to love?  _ Thanos’ voice purrs in his mind.

He shoves that thought viciously away, too. _Think. You should have sensed the Chitauri before the attack. You did not. Which can only mean-_

_ Thanos. Or The Other.  _

Loki discounts the first possibility entirely. Thanos would not deign to come down to Midgard just to steal Jane away. He prefers to sit in his throne and  _ watch  _ the chaos he creates. 

No, it must be The Other. It is not a god, not like him and the others of Asgard, but in the universe from which it was spawned, it would certainly have been regarded as such. Though its magic is of a different kind from his, The Other is certainly powerful enough to have cloaked the Chitauri from Loki’s warning-spells and sight, and to have kidnapped Jane.

He curses himself again for an arrogant fool. He’d relied on his cloaking spell above all, and in truth, his warning-spells had been cast merely as an afterthought. And yet, should he not have realized once Thor found him, that there must be holes in his cloak? If Thor had found him, certainly it stands to reason that The Other could have. And _had_.

_ Jane distracted you, _ Thanos’ voice whispers.

Loki clenches his fists. _No_. He had expected Thanos’ forces to attack Asgard first. The Tesseract  _ was _ there, after all. Then Loki would have had some warning…

Nor had he considered that Jane could be a target.  _ He _ is the betrayer, the turncoat. So why should they punish anyone else? Still, he knows Thanos’ ways all too well, and he rebukes himself for not considering this possibility, for  never thinking they would attempt to use her against him. Had he been wise enough to forsee this, he would have taken better precautions, _protected_ her, but now it is far too late

But then he chides himself. He does not yet know for sure that this is the work of The Other.

Carefully, Loki searches for some remnant of The Other’s magic, and finds it almost immediately. With a slowly-growing sense of dread, he realizes the Chitauri he’d killed had been merely cannon fodder, a distraction while The Other went after its true target.

He is a fool indeed. Loki grits his teeth, impotent rage filling him like acid. 

The Other _has_ Jane.

“ _No_ ,” Loki whispers in a dry rasp to the uncaring desert. The only thing that keeps him from  _ screaming _ it is the knowledge that The Other might hear, and laugh.

Panic rears its dark fanged head again, and it feels worse than any torture of Thanos’ making.

*~*~*

Jane slowly comes to, even though she’s pretty sure she’d rather not. 

She’s lying on a floor of jagged rock with strange noises all around her. Dry slitherings, metal scraping against metal, chitterings and growls and low laughing shrieks.

The air is thin here and hard to breathe. It tastes bad in her lungs as she struggles reluctantly to sit up. It’s also dim, and her eyes fight to make out the sharp, unforgiving shapes of the rocky walls rising crookedly around her, an odd set of stairs hanging in mid-air to her left, defying gravity.

Without warning she is grabbed, her arms almost crushed in grips so painful she groans, and two beings haul her to her feet.

She blinks watering eyes and looks at them. Grey skin, grey armour…Chitauri; she recognizes them from all the SHIELD file photos and media coverage from the Battle of Manhattan that she’s seen.

She’s in  _ big _ trouble. This makes what happened with SHIELD seem like nothing more than a day at Disney World by comparison.

Jane’s head throbs painfully and she can feel blood drying into a stiff film under her nose, and the aliens holding her arms are hurting her, so in all it takes her a few moments to notice that there’s a third being now approaching them, shadowy and cloaked.

It crouches down to study her face-to-face, and Jane shudders to realize it has no _eyes_ , just cloth wrapped around the top half of its face, and a thing like a golden cage covering the lower half.

It speaks, and its voice sounds like it has rocks wedged deep in its throat. “Greetings, consort of Loki of Asgard.”

Jane swallows hard, shaking. “Who are you? What do you want?” Her voice is sobbing and weak and she curses herself for it. 

“I am called The Other. And what I want, I have – _you_.”

“Wh-why?” Jane stutters. It raises a hand towards her throat – a hand which, Jane notices with horrified fascination, has two thumbs on it, and blue skin – and she flinches as it strokes a finger along Loki’s snake necklace.

“The Asgardian betrayed us, and so the Master wishes him to suffer.”

“I don’t know who or what you are talking about,” Jane tries, weakly.

The Other laughs, and it sounds like snake scales rubbing dryly together. On either side of her, the Chitauri titter their amusement.

“Oh? That collar you wear reeks of the Asgardian’s magic. It tells me exactly to whom you belong. Who _owns_ you.”

The creature leans closer, til it is nearly nose-to-nose with Jane. “And who will come running to save you, when your howls of pain and fear echo across space to his ears.”

It smiles, revealing jagged, bloodied teeth

And Jane _screams_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Five of the Light in the Dark series. The Other has Jane. Will Loki rescue her? And if so, who can he turn to for help?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Thanks as always to canyr12 for being fabulous as always, and this time I must also thank fabulousbyfizzcap and writing-ramblr on Tumblr. All three of them helped me decide how much dark, graphic stuff to put into this chapter.  
> Disclaimer: Don’t own any of these lovely characters. Not that I want to own The Other, mind you. You can keep it, Marvel!  
> Author’s Note: Movie!verse, as usual! 
> 
> Banner courtesy of the lovely Cincoflex! :)
> 
> **IMPORTANT NOTE** : There’s some fairly graphic torture scenes and two instances of non-consensual sex (blame The Other, it’s all it’s fault) in this chapter. While I don’t recommend skipping this chapter entirely, as there are some fairly significant plot developments, anybody who wants to avoid the dark stuff can just skip reading the scenes written in Jane’s POV, from the time she’s thrown into her cell until the time she is rescued, and you’ll bypass all the nasty stuff.

Loki clenches his fists so tightly his nails nearly shear through his skin, then he punches the nearest sand dune in a paroxysm of rage. Sand shoots up and eddies around him, coating his plate mail in a film of dust and dulling the shine of his horns, but he doesn’t notice. 

The Other _has_ Jane.

For a long and utterly shameful moment, Loki considers abandoning Jane to her fate and escaping to another Realm. Perhaps even another Worlds Tree entirely. Loki cannot die, and the thought of suffering at Thanos’ hands for eternity…and all to save a mere mortal?

_ Is it not a weakness, to love?  _

No, Loki does not _love_ her. They have an ‘arrangement’, whereby they exchange pleasurable sensation. They offer each other physical comfort, and that is _all_. He has no use for anything more than that.

Why should he love her, in any case? The mortal who _doubts_ him. Oh, she had defended him vigorously enough to her fellow mortals, to Fury and to Selvig, to Stark, and even to his supposed brother Thor, but her continued questions to him only prove that her trust and faith in him are not total.

So why risk himself to save her, then? If indeed she is not already dead.

The Midgardian’s Norse legends, laughably inaccurate as they are, do hold one kernel of truth – Loki had known many bed-partners. Multiple females in every Realm. So what is this tiny, doubtful, Midgardian female to _him_? He can find a suitable replacement within hours of traveling to a new Realm, of this he has no doubt. 

And yet-

He closes his eyes, battling himself.

_ No. _

The Other is too expert a pupil of Thanos’ teachings. Jane won’t be killed, not while she is of use. Though whether she will be irreparably damaged will be another matter entirely-

He brushes that thought aside with an almost audible sound.

_ Liesmith_, he has been called many a time, but lying to himself? Even he is not so skilled as to convince himself that Jane Foster of Midgard means nothing at all to him. 

Truly, Loki must admit that it is _he_ who is unworthy of her, not the other way around. He is the God of Lies! Her trust is _there_ , if not total, and really, could any reasonable person trust Loki completely, knowing what he is? 

He has never truly wanted to be King, not of Asgard and not of Midgard, but he has always wanted _respect_. To be recognized for himself, for his talents and worth. For just one person to look upon him as not merely a god or a prince, but as a person deserving of trust. And Jane, he must confess, has given him that. She has trusted him so in many ways thus far, even as he has challenged her, repeatedly.

Above all, he has to admit there is a certain appeal in the fact that she has never lied to him (or at least, not that he has detected or discovered). He has been lied to his whole life by Odin, by Frigga. To have someone in his life who has and will always tell the truth to him, no matter how unpleasant, nor how he might react? 

It has been a painfully rare thing in his millennia of existence, and yes, he can and will battle to maintain that.

But that is _all_. _It is_ not _love,_ he repeats, though the assertion is beginning to sound false even to himself, the echoes tiresome. He is strong enough not to need her, not to need _anyone (_ _Is it not a weakness, to love?_ ), but that does not mean he wishes to leave Jane in the hands of The Other. He cannot and will not condemn her to suffer even a fraction of the agonies he has endured. He owes her that much, if nothing else, for the gifts she has already granted him. 

Decision made, he gathers his magic into himself, preparing for battle. Fortunately, he knows exactly where to begin his search.

*~*~*

Jane’s scream fades into nothing, her lungs quickly running out of air. Her arms are practically shrieking from the crushing grip of the Chitauri. 

But The Other doesn’t touch her. Its callused palm stops mere inches from her forehead, and it cocks its own head in a grotesque parody of Loki.

“The Asgardian led us to believe that you humans are weak, that your world would fall easily.” It scuffles somehow even closer to her, seeming to examine her face closely even though it has no eyes. 

“Indeed, physically, your kind cannot withstand much torture. How unfortunate.” It grins again as Jane shakes down to the core of her bones. 

Then it does touch her, its palm cold and scaly, and Jane’s body freezes in place. She tries to struggle, to breathe, but all her muscles seem to have turned to stone. She can’t scream, can’t fight, can’t move, and there’s this _crawling_ sensation in her mind-

The Other pulls its hand away from her after an endless moment and Jane, released, slumps like a dropped puppet. “Take her to a cell. She and her fear will serve as fine bait to lure our prey. And then I will present both of them as gifts to our Master.” It grins again, smugly, and turns away.

Jane can move under her own power again, but it’s cold comfort as the Chitauri wrench her arms nearly free of their sockets, dragging her away and down a long throat of rock. The darkness presses in, increasing her sense of suffocation.

They drag her into a tiny cave, lit with several small dim blue lights. There are chains riveted to the floor, and that is where they toss her, cuffing her wrists and ankles tightly before they leave. 

The moment she is alone, Jane clamps both hands over her mouth to stifle the full-throated scream that wants so badly to come out. It turns into a series of racking sobs instead.

_ Please, Loki, wherever you are,  _ help _me._

Even knowing that it’s a trap for him, she can’t help herself: “Loki!” She doesn’t intend to scream it, but she does anyway.

Nothing.

Silence falls after the echoes of her desperate cry fade, until there’s only the sound of her heartbeat racing in her ears and her slightly wheezing breaths.

_So stupid_ , she chides herself, to actually think he can _hear_ her from…wherever this is-

_ -when your howls of pain and fear echo across space to his ears_, The Other’s voice purrs in her mind. 

Jane shudders and swipes at her tear-streaked cheeks and under her bloodied nose with one ragged sleeve. It’s cold here too, though she hadn’t noticed until now. She wraps her arms tightly around herself and shivers for a new reason.

_ He’ll come. He’ll come. He’ll come.  _ She chants it to herself over and over, in a nearly hysterical mantra.

_ Been here before, though, haven’t we? _ whispers the negative little voice, her only but unwanted companion _. Except if Loki takes his sweet time_ this time _to rescue you, you might be missing a few pieces by the time he gets here-_

She screams curses at the voice until it shuts up, then curls into the fetal position on the floor. Her stomach cramps and twists with nausea, and her lungs and head ache. _Breathe, Jane. You have to_ breathe.

Time slows. Jane trembles and sweats, expecting someone to show up any moment to torture her, but she has no visitors of any kind. She checks her watch by sheer habit, but she can’t read it. At first she thinks it is the dimness, but even after she crawls as close to one of the lights in the rough wall as she can, her chains scraping over the jagged flooring, she realizes something here is affecting it – the numbers blur and fade in and out, like she’s in some kind of strange magnetic field.

There’s only her breathing and heartbeat by which to keep time. 

_ You need to try to rest, Jane, _ she finally tells herself. It seems impossible, but she has to try. Certainly staying in a state of panic and fear will do nothing to increase her chances of survival.

She brushes as many small rocks out from under herself as she can, then curls up, trying to slow her breathing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

_ Nothing. _

Then there _is_ a sound. Inarticulate shouts from down the rough-hewn hallway, explosions…Jane sits up, heartbeat hammering at full-speed.

Silence falls again, pressing down on her ears, but now a tall, dark shadow fills the open doorway of her cell. Have they come for her at last? Jane crouches down like a cornered animal, freezing-

The shadow shifts, and that’s when she realizes it has two long, curving horns protruding from the top of its head. A familiar and welcome silhouette.

“Loki!” she exclaims, voice shaking. He came, he’s _here_ -

“Jane,” comes his answer, the tones low and deep and seeming to bounce and echo off the walls of her cell.

There’s a faint green flash and her chains release and fall, hitting the floor with a dull clunk. She stumbles to her feet and runs straight at him, slamming into him and clutching on as tight as she can manage. “Oh God, Loki, I was so _scared_ -“ she babbles.

Loki’s hands close around her upper arms, tight enough to make her wince, and he shoves her back, holding her away from him. Her heartbeat stutters in her chest at the expression on his face, the hellish light turning his skin a bizarre blue colour. Her arms throb from the grip of his fingers.

“So very beautiful,” he says, but the eyes raking over her, and his voice, are cold. So cold that she barely recognizes him at all.

“Beautiful skin,” he adds, one hand releasing her to trail roughened knuckles down her cheek, but the touch, which should comfort her, instead makes her skin crawl.

“So very lovely on you…but perhaps it would look even better…on my wall.” A sharp twist of his wrist, and one of his daggers appears in his hand.

_ No, _ Jane tries to say, to plead, but nothing comes out of her mouth but a weak stream of air.

He shoves her face-first into the cell wall, her forehead impacting with a crunch that deafens her, her shirt torn from her shoulders mere seconds later. She’s still conscious when the point of his knife goes into her, just to the right of her spine, blood and unimaginable pain spilling out of her as he starts cutting-

Jane screams over and over until her voice breaks, but the agony only increases, building to a level she doesn’t think she can live through. He never stops, and Jane doesn’t pass out, even though she would if she could…

The reek of blood is all around her when he releases what’s left of her at last. She slips in the blood underfoot and falls flat on her face, and when she looks up at him she sees him holding up a long, wide piece of what used to be _her_ , and Jane’s last moments of life go into one final shriek, the sound turning animal as she loses also what is left of her fragile sanity-

There’s a _shift_ then, and Jane realizes she’s still somehow whole, eyes shut tight and a hoarse scream dying in her throat as she shivers uncontrollably on the floor of the cell. She wipes sweat from her brow, her hand so weak it’s a struggle to even lift it that high. 

She’s whole again, yes, but she’s still here, still alone. Loki did not come to rescue her. Or to make her suffer.

Terror fills her as she realizes at last what The Other meant by ‘torture’.

*~*~*

It takes both significant time and a worryingly large amount of his power, but Loki manages to find the portal which originally brought him here from Asgard, and then he _bends_ it, forcing it, tearing its other end free from Asgard and _pushing_ it to a new place.

When it is done and he is certain the new bridge will hold, Loki pauses to re-assess matters. The process has weakened him, drained much of his magic, but it will have to do. Most of the spells he will need to rescue Jane do not require much of his strength, as well-practiced as he has become at them through so many years. And he dares not wait too long to rescue Jane.

He steps into the portal, gravity pressing tightly on his chest as lights and sounds swirl and speed around him.

When the lights fade around him, Loki is on the desolate asteroid of sharp-edged rock where The Other maintains its base of operations. If The Other is to be found anywhere, it is most likely to be here, where it can observe the movements of its agents and send reports frequently to its Master.

Loki smiles, but it is without humour. Loki’s arrogance had put Jane in harm’s way, but now The Other’s arrogance will deliver her safely back into Loki’s keeping.

Loki does not, alas, know all of The Other’s weaknesses – Thanos had seen to that – but it will surely _amuse_ Loki to see what type of torture – and for how long – that abomination can endure before it gives up its miserable life.

But first, Jane. 

Loki draws his magic tightly in about himself, shielding himself from the sight of any who may be watching. It will be an easy matter, to magick himself into the base to release Jane, and then magick them both away to safety. 

Then, once she is safe, Loki will return, kidnap The Other in a similar fashion, and then will Loki carry out his vengeance in a… _leisurely_ manner, as befits The Other’s crime.

His first task is to locate Jane within the base. Loki concentrates, forming the magic into the shapes required. It comes to his call, an obedient dog to its familiar master-

Yet it does not work.

Loki’s eyes widen in dismay. 

He tries again, but the same result occurs.

_ By Yggdrasil,  _ he curses.

His cloak of invisibility is still functional, as far as Loki can tell, so he dares to approach the base, testing an unwelcome theory. Closer, closer…until finally, as indeed he expected, he takes a step and his magic shivers away, leaving him exposed. It feels as though a glowing net has caught at a part of him, entangling and paralyzing that place within from which his magic is sourced.

He has lost his single most useful weapon.

Loki jumps backwards into a defensive crouch, drawing a dagger and conjuring the cloak around himself once more as the _net_ releases him, but there is no reaction from the base. No horde of Chitauri bearing down on him. Yet.

Cautiously, he reaches out again with his magic. He already knows what he will find, but he wants to be certain-

Loki’s teeth tighten together so hard in frustration that sharp pain shoots through his jaw. A Guardian, just as he suspected. Half beast and half machine, and designed to detect and block any magics that do not belong to Thanos and his ilk.

Loki remembers all too well being shown such a Guardian and having its powers demonstrated on him during his time in Thanos’ company. Interestingly, Guardians do not block _all_ magics from Thanos’ enemies; while Loki had proven unable to cloak himself or to use any offensive spells during that time, Odin’s illusion over him had never abated. 

Why, Loki did not know. Perhaps the Guardian did not recognize such as a spell which could do harm? It had seemed to Loki to be too mindless a creature to be able to draw such a distinction, however. Perhaps it thought such an illusion purely defensive and thus too weak a threat, or perhaps his un-father’s illusion had been too powerful.

Loki shakes his head angrily, driving such minutia away. He has more pressing matters to deal with, like the fact that he now cannot use _any_ of his magic to save Jane– he cannot magick in, cannot cast invisibility and sneak in, cannot confuse the Chitauri garrison with copies of himself as he did earlier…

Panic stirs in his belly again, drawing its claws along his bones, but he grits his teeth and forces it away again. _Think, fool!_

Only three paths lie before him. One, he walks in unarmed and surrenders himself in exchange for Jane.

Loki dismisses that thought almost the moment it is birthed. Even if he was willing to suffer for eternity to save Jane – which he is _not_ \- he was in Thanos’ foul clutches long enough to learn the ways of him and his minions. Even if Loki yields, if anything this will encourage The Other to hurt Jane _more_ , once Loki is there to serve as unwilling spectator.

The second path is to fight his way in, but entirely without magic. Loki considers this for a much longer time. Although he prefers to rely on his magic wherever possible, he trained as a warrior by Thor’s side, and his skills with blades are not to be underestimated. 

In addition, he does not believe the Chitauri pose much of a threat to him, his magic bound or not. Of course, The Other is a different matter entirely, but if it is engaged with Loki, it can hardly be busying itself harming Jane, can it not? As long as Loki can find a way to defeat it, the rest matters not. He can heal from many types of wounds.

Loki almost chooses that option, so that he may forgo even considering the last, unpalatable path. But even as he reaches for his knives, the thought occurs to him again- He _knows_ the ways of those who follow Thanos.

All too well.

The Other will likely not have harmed Jane much – _yet_ – because it will no doubt realize how fragile her flesh is, how easily she might expire. And then it will have lost its bait.

But if it realizes Loki is fighting to gain his way in…how quickly that may change.

Without his magic, he will need to take on the Chitauri garrison one at a time. And once The Other recognizes it is him, that will give it too much time and leisure to do something exceedingly damaging to Jane. 

No doubt it will realize how easily Loki may be distracted, and perhaps taken prisoner, if the very Midgardian he came to collect has too many of her non-essential body parts cut from her on the battlements in front of him.

He needs to find a way to attack fast and hard, to overwhelm all The Other’s attention so that it thinks only of defense. Or, he needs a distraction. Preferably one that might not be immediately connected to _him-_

A shrieking noise fills his mind and Loki clutches his head in both hands, groaning.

Jane, in agony and fear, crying out to him-

When it fades to echoes, Loki finds himself on his knees. He cannot read minds or control them, but he is often able to sense strong emotions. So even with the Guardian’s net overlaying the base, Jane’s pain had smashed into him like a brutal fist.

Loki straightens up slowly, guilt and rage tearing at him until he nearly roars and throws caution to the winds, racing into the base to fall on his enemies like a ravening wolf-

_ No. _

_ No. _ With an effort, he forces his mind to silence, to calm. It is in fact the very first lesson he had learned as a mage; to still one’s thoughts, so that in that centre of peace, the magic could be formed as one willed it. He takes the time to reach for that discipline now. Insanity and rage had not served him well in the too-near past, and it surely will not save Jane now.

Loki forces himself to deep, slow breaths, the last remnants of Jane’s torment fading gradually away. _The third pathway_ , he thinks to himself, forcing a return to his prior chain of thought.

Get help.

*~*~*

Jane gasps the insufficient air into her lungs, shuddering convulsively. Sweat and tears mix as they slide down her cheeks and drip off the edge of her jaw to patter onto the sharp-edged floor.

She shudders again, her head throbbing in time to her speeding heartbeat. Telling herself over and over that the things she’d seen and felt hadn’t been real had _not_ helped.

She’d tried that strategy during her second hallucination. She’d tried to stay calm, repeating _It’s not real, it’s not real_ like a mantra, even as Loki’s gift had cinched itself tighter and tighter around her throat. She’d tried to loosen it, even to rip it off, but it had turned boiling hot, searing her fingers and cauterizing her carotid and jugular shut, the agony roasting her alive…

Jane had barely come to her senses, wheezing and still tugging at the now-cool and loosened necklace, before the next attack. This time she’d been in some building, addressing a throng of well-dressed men and women while soft classical music played in the background. She remembers thinking that one of those fancy dresses alone could have funded Jane’s research for a year. 

In the hallucination the language coming out of her mouth was unfamiliar to her but sounded German. Not that it mattered. Soon enough she glimpsed a commotion out of the corner of her eye, and then Loki was on her, hand around the back of her neck, dragging her forward.

Her flailing hands had glanced uselessly off his suit jacket, screaming people backing off and leaving a wide ring of empty air around Jane and the god brutally shoving her forward.

Loki had flipped her head over heels and slammed her down onto a strange table, the head of a bull at each end of it. Stunned, she’d watched paralyzed as he pinned her to the table with a cane topped with a blue gem, her ribs flexing painfully under the pressure. Her eyes could not seem to move from his face, and he grinned cruelly down at her, his other hand reaching into his jacket.

He’d pulled out a device Jane had never seen before, then he’d pressed part of it, making it whirr to life.

Then he’d slammed it onto Jane’s face. Tiny knives had sliced into her eye-socket, and Jane had felt the sickening tug of her eyeball being pulled free. It had been _excruciating_ , her screams loud enough to rattle windows and shatter glass, while the eye she had left had stayed fixed on Loki’s pleased expression. Hot blood from her wound had poured down her temple and into her hair, tickling.

When he’d wrenched the device free (her eye going with it) an eternity later, she had hoped for mercy, but he’d shown her none. She remembers being distantly aware of screams and running feet, but all of them heading away. 

Nobody was coming to save her. 

His hands had closed on her throat, his teeth flashing ferally at her. All her air had gone, her hands scrabbling futilely to loosen his grip. “Useless female,” Loki had said to her, his tone calm and almost happy, with the dull crunch of her windpipe collapsing to punctuate his remark.

But even then, he had seen fit to extend her agony as long as he could. He’d loosened his grip, watching her gasps, her feeble, doomed efforts to _live_ , his eyes gleaming sadistically before his hands had clenched with finality, her spine giving way.

Darkness had descended on Jane, blotting everything out but the after-images of the _pain_ -

When her eyes had flickered open she had been back in her prison once more, coated in fear-sweat and wondering how much more of this she can take before her sanity gives like a frayed rope.

*~*~*

Loki returns to Midgard the same way he left it. Guilt assails him at abandoning Jane for the moment, but he knows he will think better, _quicker_ , without the maelstrom of Jane’s torture in his head. Mere moments after the first time, he had suffered her pains again, and he cannot afford to be slowed down every few minutes or he will never come up with a usable scheme.

He requires help, that is clear, but now he must resolve the issue of: Who can he rely on?

Jane’s fellow Midgardians are the obvious choice, at least at first glance. Surely they will want to rescue the mortal who can open the way to the other Realms for them?

But as Loki surveys the carnage of his earlier battle with the Chitauri, second thoughts beset him.

SHIELD does not trust him; they have made that abundantly clear. Might they believe Loki himself has kidnapped Jane, and is using the Chitauri attack as a diversion? Loki has not the patience or time to disabuse them of any false notions they may get in their limited minds.

Another consideration: Can the Midgardians even be of help? Oh, if they attack, perhaps The Other will not believe Loki behind it, and Jane will be spared long enough for Loki to sneak in a back way, destroy the Guardian, and save her. But the mortals have few weapons capable of harming the Chitauri, except for that last, devastating weapon which Stark had used to end the Great Battle

Though Loki knows little about the mechanics of such a device (and normally would not deign to care), he is certain such a weapon will irreparably harm Jane if it is used in proximity to her.

Of course the other Midgardian possibility is the so-called Avengers, but Loki knows from his own spying that they are scattered all over this backwater Realm. Bringing them together and, most notably, convincing them (motley, undisciplined crew that they are), will take time Loki does not have to spare. How had the metal man put it? _Yeah, takes us a while to get any traction, I'll give you that one._

Jane may not have _a while_. Loki cannot afford to assume as much.

And this all assumes that the Midgardians even care to save her. She is important, or _should_ be considered important, in Loki’s considered opinion, but whether they are intelligent enough to realize that is debatable. 

He shakes his head slowly, grinding his bootheel into the bloodstained sand in frustration. This leaves him but one final possibility, as utterly unsavoury as it may be.

Loki realizes, however, just as he is about to attempt to modify his makeshift Bifröst again, that he has unfinished business here. Perhaps some mortals have noticed Jane’s absence by now, but none seem to have marked the presence of this battleground.

If Loki allows SHIELD to discover this on their own, could that further weaken his position with them? No doubt Fury will be angered if he thinks other Chitauri attacks are coming and that Loki failed to warn them. Even though Loki thinks such are entirely unlikely - _he_ is the target, not Midgard - he supposes SHIELD will still want to marshal their defenses (such as they are), and will not thank Loki if he does not warn them.

But he has no _time_ , and he knows these humans all too well. If he magicks in and tries to tell them what has happened in as quickly a manner as possible…well, they will not accept it. They will want to _debrief_ him, _interrogate_ him, _corroborate_ his story, and again, he has not the leisure for that…and no doubt they will mistake his foul mood for something other than it is, and that will not help, either-

_ Wait. _ Inspiration strikes.

Quickly he banishes his plate armour and helmet, and then he reaches his awareness into Jane’s city, searching. A moment later, he is standing in the middle of Darcy Lewis’ dwelling.

She is in the midst of walking out of her scullery area, holding a cup of what smells to him like the drink Jane calls ‘coffee’, and chattering impatiently into a device which Loki recognizes as what Jane calls a ‘cell phone’. “Dammit Jane, pick _up_ , would you? I know you don’t want to be late for our flight to  New York- ” She spots Loki and does a double-take, sputtering and nearly dropping the cup.

“Jesus Christ!” Darcy yells, and Loki realizes belatedly that she does not yet recognize it is him. No doubt he should have knocked at her door and requested entry, but he has not even the time for such social niceties-

“Please, I beg you to forgive the manner of my entry, Lady Darcy.” At his words her eyes narrow, and she finally appears to recognize him.

“Loki!” Darcy shakes her head. “You scared the crap out of me! Not cool, dude.” She puts her cup down on a side-table with a hollow clunk. “You’re lucky I’m dressed, or _you_ would’ve been the one scared. Is Jane with you? I’ve been trying to reach her-”

“Jane has been taken,” Loki interrupts, “by the leader of the beings that attacked your city. Or rather, the _real_ leader,” he amends, recalling that many mortals still think it was _him_. “Fear not,“ he adds as Darcy’s eyes widen, “I will get her back, but time is of the essence, and so I require your aid, Lady.”

Her eyes narrow at him again behind the small panes of glass she wears on her face, as if she is trying to decide if this is some prank of his (and perhaps Jane’s).

“Please, Lady,” Loki requests, dropping to one knee. He does not allow himself to dwell on the fact he is kneeling to a mere mortal. He is doing what is _practical_ , no more. “I realize my reputation must precede me, but I swear by Yggdrasil that I am not lying. Jane is in dire trouble, and I will do all in my power to get her back, but I need your help.”

There’s a long pause as the mortal studies him, but finally Darcy nods slowly. “OK. What do you need me to do?”

In answer, Loki magicks them both instantly back to the site of the battle. Darcy staggers a step or two after they arrive and then looks around, the blood draining from her face, but Loki has not the time to introduce this scene to her gently.

“These Chitauri attacked me, distracted me while Jane was taken. And while I am sure SHIELD will want to know of it, I have not the leisure to deal with their…” he pauses, scrabbling for the term he has heard Jane use, “red-tape?”

Darcy nods slowly, clearly shaken. “Uh, OK.”

“All that I require is that you show them that this event has occurred, and also that you inform them to be prepared to defend themselves. While I think it is unlikely that another attack is forthcoming – I believe at the moment I am the sole target, with Jane being used as bait – being prepared will do you Midgardians no harm.”

“OK,” she agrees, though she seems nervous. Worrying about what has happened to Jane? Well, he feels much the same. “Just one question, though- where the hell are we?”

Loki’s patience frays and he resists the urge to grind his teeth. “Your place of work is several minutes’ walk that way, in the direction of the sun,” Loki indicates to her, fighting for calm. “I will take you back there now,” he adds, and does.

He catches Darcy’s arm and steadies her as they materialize for a second time. “I thank you, Lady Darcy,” he says gravely, even as the sense of urgency rises sharply within him again. “In return, when this is resolved you may ask a boon of me. But for now there are other matters I must attend to.” He pauses, realizing the inevitable is upon him. “I cannot rescue Jane alone.”

“Where are you going to go for help?” Darcy asks anxiously, twisting her phone between her fingers.

Loki draws a heavy breath. “To Asgard,” he replies.

*~*~*

Jane is in a heap on the floor. Every muscle aches, her breath rattling in her lungs as she fights off a wave of nausea, her headache spiking painfully in her temples. A metallic taste coats her mouth and throat, and as blood continues to drip intermittently from her nose, Jane has to wonder whether the air here is poisonous to her.

But soon such practical worries are brushed aside by yet another attack on her mind. Jane can feel her resistance waning, her defenses weakening with each assault. This time she barely manages one attempt to convince herself that _it isn’t real_ , before the nightmare swallows her whole.

She recognizes this scenario within one and half heartbeats. A forest. At night. A familiar figure dressed in golden armour and ridiculously extravagant horns, slowly advancing on her. 

Except there’s nothing to inspire lust in her this time.

“I am going to make a toy of you, little Midgardian whore,” Loki rasps, his voice and eyes as cold as ice. 

Jane doesn’t even waste breath answering, she just turns and runs.

A hand seizes her hair within half a step, yanking her back and almost tearing the hair from her scalp, ending her futile bid for freedom.

He throws her to the ground hard enough to rattle her bones, her teeth clicking together painfully as her chin impacts hard dirt. He flips her onto her back and tears at the collar of her shirt, his intent clear within moments.

_ This _ is a new torture, an all-new twisting of what had been between them, but Jane can’t put a stop to it. Just like all the other false echoes The Other’s spell has created in her brain during her imprisonment.

He looms over her, brushing off her feeble attempts to get free, to keep herself covered. He laughs cruelly, mocking her, then pins her easily down as he unlaces himself.

It’s an agony of the most personal, violating sort as he thrusts inside her.

He doesn’t stop. Every movement of his hips is like a punishing blow, and her ragged screams and her pleading with him gain her absolutely no mercy.

He grunts like an animal and freezes, emptying himself, then pulls out of her at last. But Jane knows the horror won’t end here. She won’t be let off the hook that easily.

He makes a disgusted noise and tosses her aside like a doll, Jane landing so hard that she nearly blacks out when her head hits the ground. 

“ _Useless_ ,” he proclaims. “Even as a whore, you fall short, Midgardian. Shall we see if your slow death will prove more entertaining to me?”

He kicks her in the stomach, the force enough to throw her across the clearing and into a nearby tree. Her spine gives with a wet snap, and a terrible noise is forced out of her as she tumbles forward into the sharp-edged grass. 

He stalks forward slowly, teeth gleaming wickedly, and resumes kicking her. Bones break, blood drips from her nose and mouth in a flood, the pain excruciating, and through it all he never stops laughing, she can still hear it even as her dying screams ring in her ears-

-and she’s back in her cell.

Shivering uncontrollably, unable to stop, Jane curls into a ball as dry, rasping sobs overtake her. No matter how hard she tries, when she reaches to find the actual, real memory of that night in the forest, only the dark, horrible torture comes to mind.

It’s not just the air which is poisonous here, she soon realizes. Her memories are being poisoned as well, rewritten, until she is no longer sure which is real and which memories are the false ones, created by her tormentors.

*~*~*

It again takes Loki several hours and considerable strength of magic and will to bend his makeshift Bifröst so that it takes him to Asgard instead. Loki practically feels each second as if they are moments of Jane’s life running down, and he has to keep halting his work to center himself. He cannot save her if he gives in to panic; he has to believe that The Other will keep her basically whole. Otherwise she will hardly serve as viable bait, correct?

Finally he materializes within the bowels of the palace from which he escaped not that long ago.

He cloaks himself quickly and then lopes cautiously through the palace corridors, a curious mixture of anger, longing, and homesickness threatening to overwhelm him. Many times, he has to sneak around people that he knows – _knew_ \- though thankfully he does not encounter Odin or Frigga. Throughout, he must force his warring emotions aside. Jane _needs_ him, and so all other concerns are secondary.

He soon finds himself climbing the stairs to the royal chambers. Thor’s rooms are empty but when Loki stretches out his magic, he senses that Thor is coming towards them. _Good._ Finally, something is working to serve Loki. 

Loki works at a rapid pace to seal Thor’s rooms with his magic, shielding the chamber from the prying eyes of Heimdall, Odin, and whoever else might try to stop him in his task. 

The doors open and Thor strides in alone, ordering a bevy of servants away curtly, and the look on his face gives Loki brief pause. His former brother’s brow is furrowed, lines of irritation carved deeply into his face, and Loki’s heart leaps gladly…before he remembers why he is here again.

“Brother,” Loki says deliberately, materializing in the middle of Thor’s chambers.

Thor does a double-take, much as Lady Darcy did, though he does not reach for Mjölnir. Yet. “Loki.” Thor’s eyes narrow, and now he _does_ reach for Mjölnir. “Why are you here?” Suspicion drips from his voice.

Gritting his teeth and attempting to swallow his considerable pride, Loki drops reluctantly to one knee. “As a supplicant, brother.”

Thor’s eyes widen but his hand does not move from Mjölnir’s haft. Obviously expecting a trick, he asks “And why is that, brother?” Thor’s tone lacks any sarcasm, and Loki has to fight not to sneer. He is using his oaf of a “brother” to get Jane back, that is all. He does not forgive Thor, or like him, he merely needs to _use_ him. He still _hates_ , but he must set that aside for the moment.

“Jane,” Loki says simply.

Now Thor _does_ pull Mjölnir free “I warned you, Loki, that if you hurt her-“

“So quick to believe the worst of me,” Loki accuses, unable to stop the bitterness in his tone. “I am _sorry_ to disappoint, but I am not the monster this time. It was the Chitauri and their leader. It is called The Other. They found me somehow on Midgard, and discovered that Jane and I were…involved,” he continues, choosing to use Jane’s words to describe their arrangement. “And now they have taken her, to use as a lure.” Though guilt stabs sharply at him again, Loki stops at admitting his own culpability in this whole situation.

“I would rescue her alone, if I could. Believe me, I would rather not beg for your aid.” Loki continues, eyes on the floor in what he hopes will be seen as an attempt at humility. “But The Other’s stronghold is defended by a creature capable of blocking all magics save those desired by The Other, and I cannot do anything to save Jane, other than battle physically. And I believe if I try, The Other may well put Jane to the sword in front of me. I require a diversion, and I believe you and our friends,” the last two words burn his throat like acid, but he forces himself to say them regardless, “are strong enough, even without magic, to destroy much of the Chitauri garrison. And while they are diverted, I shall find another way in, destroy their Guardian, and then save Jane.”

Loki stops and waits, eyes still on the floor. He has spoken honestly for once, but that does not mean Thor will believe him, of course. But he has not considered what he will do if Thor does not agree.

A heavy silence hangs between them.

His anger and panic rising again, Loki tries another approach: “You call yourself protector of Earth. Well, now an innocent woman of Earth is going to pay for the sins of one of Asgard – or, if you prefer, _formerly_ of Asgard. You value Jane too, I know this. If you have any degree of love left for her, please my brother, help-“

“Stop, brother,” Thor cuts him off. Thor steps forwards and his hand squeezes Loki’s shoulder, and Loki has to force himself not to stab it. “Of course I will give you my aid. Of course I want to help Jane. I am concerned, however, as to how to convince Sif and the Warriors Three to aid _us_.”

It’s a victory, though Loki refuses to recognize the relief swirling in his chest. He looks up at Thor, shaking his head in disbelief. “You are the Crown Prince. They will follow your orders, will they not?”

Thor shakes his head and turns from Loki, tucking Mjölnir away once more. “Perhaps, but I would prefer that they agree to accompany us of their own will, not because I order them to.” Thor hesitates, then adds: “I am beginning to see the downfall of treating those who serve us as if they are nothing more than mindless tools, to be used for whatever purpose one has at the time.”

Loki frowns. “If that comment is directed at me, may I respectfully suggest that now is _not_ the time-“

“No, my brother, I speak of Odin,” Thor clarifies, and Loki’s shoulders tighten painfully at the mention of his name.

Thor turns to meet Loki’s indignant gaze. “Our father was not pleased that I left you free to roam the Earth, brother, not after he expended much energy to send me to fetch you. He did not agree with my reasons for doing so.”

Loki cocks his head. He does not even bother to contradict Thor about Odin’s status as _their_ father, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Which were?” 

Thor shakes his head. “Another time. For now, suffice it to say that for the moment I am not the favoured son you seem to have always taken me for. And I have begun to see how immovable Odin is, and how that might have created additional difficulties for you which might not otherwise have occurred.”

Fascinating, but Loki has little time for this prattle. “I agree, another time. Very well, let us find and convince our…allies. While I am quite certain The Other will not kill Jane, that does not mean he will not _hurt_ her, and I fear the longer I delay-“ Loki leaves the thought to hang in the air. Not merely for dramatic effect (though there _is_ that), but because even he does not want to consider it. 

Thor nods. “Very well. Cloak your presence, and let us go.”

*~*~*

“Thor, you cannot be serious!” Sif exclaims, glaring daggers at Loki. “He tried to kill you, to kill us-“

Loki stands stony-faced in the middle of the company, his eyes once again downcast. This is utterly and completely _humiliating_ , but he will suffer it. It is surely nothing compared to what Jane is suffering right now, if the screams in his mind had been any indication.

Besides, Sif is quite correct, even Loki must acknowledge it. If grudgingly.

But time is advancing, and he does not know how much of it Jane might have left, so he leaps into the verbal fray, interrupting Thor’s entreating reply. “The things that I have done, I _will_ answer for,” he lies smoothly. “But right now we have a far more urgent matter to attend to.” He raises his eyes to Sif’s livid ones. “You met Jane Foster of Midgard, did you not? Do you believe she deserves to die a slow, horrible demise at the hands of these foul creatures, Lady Sif?”

Sif’s frown only deepens, and behind her the so-called Warriors Three fidget uneasily. “You would have me believe her innocent? It is _you_ she bedded, and knowingly, after all-“

“Sif,” Thor interjects warningly, anger colouring his own tones now, and Sif falls immediately silent. Thor motions to her to step away with him. “May I have a moment alone with my shield-mate?” he asks the rest of them. No one gainsays him.

Thor and Sif remove themselves for long moments, leaving Loki to endure the discomfort of being alone in Hogun, Volstagg, and Fandral’s company. Then again, has he _ever_ felt comfortable in their company? The insults they have tossed at him, their laughter and taunts at his expense, the way their easy camaraderie with each other has always eluded him…

_ You  _ will  _ endure this, for Jane. _ It will not be for long, he reminds himself. He will set them as bait to lure The Other’s forces and attention away, he will rescue Jane, and then…well, he has not thought that far ahead, but he certainly will not abide one moment more of their presence than he has to, from that moment forward!

Thor and Sif finally return, Sif frowning still but with a resigned set to her shoulders that Loki reads easily enough, as he has seen it countless times. 

He has won.

“Come, my friends,” Thor addresses them all. “We go to rescue an innocent woman, a good friend, and a brilliant mind who will allow the light of the universe to touch Midgard. Do we fight as one?”

There is a long pause before Sif agrees, her voice quiet. Volstagg is quick on her heels to give his affirmation, but Loki stops listening at that point, too occupied gathering his magic to twist the pathway once more to his purposes.

_ Jane, _ he thinks. _Be strong. I am coming._

*~*~*

Her heartbeat thuds loudly in her ears, still seeming to be way too fast, but Jane can barely think through the headache tearing at her temples.

She swipes weakly at the blood dripping from her nose again, struggling to hold on. Her strength is fading, deserting her, her lungs cramping each time she has to breathe in.

She may not make it until Loki gets here. _If_ he gets here.

The latest hallucinations have been the worst yet.

First Jane had found herself back in her trailer being stalked by Loki. Just like the early days, except…this time he had ripped her from her bed and, laughing the entire time, had violated her in _every_ way he could. It had been even worse than the forest hallucination.

Then, close on the first hallucination’s heels, two other attacks had begun. Neither of these delusions seemed to have come from _her_ memories, but it scarcely mattered.

She’d found herself standing among a group of well-dressed, foreign-language-speaking people – was it the same group that had screamed and abandoned her, leaving Loki to carve out her eye at his leisure? – all of them screaming and milling around until a voice, unmistakably Loki’s, had yelled “KNEEL!”

Just like the rest, Jane had tried to kneel too, but predictably, she found her joints were locked. Soon she was the only one standing, Loki’s enraged gaze searing across her cheekbones. 

“Kneel or die,” he’d threatened her, but though Jane had fought her own body as hard as she could, she’d been completely unable to speak or move. Until he’d strode over and dragged her in front of the whimpering throng. Then her nerveless fingers had tried to loosen his crushing grip, but of course there was no escape. “Observe what happens to those who do not obey their King,” he’d informed them all, his eyes gleaming sadistically. 

Then he’d used the sharp cutting edge of his scepter to disembowel her. 

Now Jane shakes her head weakly, attempting to dislodge that memory, though the final hallucination had been no less horrific. Loki had been standing in something that looked like a huge glass cage, and Jane had been standing outside it, her reflection showing faintly on its surface.

She’d known enough by then to realize instantly that the fact she was on the outside, separated from him, would serve as no protection. 

“Pathetic!” Loki had spat at her – literally – “This is my bargain, you mewling quim: I’m going to murder you, slowly, _intimately_ , in every way I know you fear. And only then will you be free of me, when you give up your miserable excuse for a life.”

Rage had swirled in Jane’s belly for one rebellious second – how tired she was of being afraid, and terrorized, and _hurt_ – but it had shattered just like the glass between them, as Loki’s fist had shot through it. He’d dragged Jane into the cell through the jagged hole, and the edges had cut into her in a thousand places. 

She’d been thrown to the floor, Loki twisting her right arm until the joint _gave_ with a grisly sound-

_ Enough! _ Jane yells silently as she claps her hands over her ears.

As hard as it is, she needs to breathe, and to hold on to what is _real_. 

Deliberately she touches the necklace and fills her mind as best she can with _real_ memories. It’s a fight like nothing she’s ever experienced before. The images of Loki, brutish and bloodthirsty and full of hate, keep trying to invade, and Jane tries to dodge them, fighting back with:

_ He’s smiling. “My sincerest apologies, Lady.” He presses soft lips to the backs of her fingers. “Apparently, I have much to learn about Midgardian women-” _

_ He looks at her for a long moment. “Then you will be. Mine, and mine alone. Do you understand-” _

_ “Say that you belong to me,” he says right into her ear, breath tickling her skin- _

_ “Don’t be afraid.” Somehow she can hear him over the hissing. “Close your eyes, Jane. Give me your trust.” She does, trying not to think about being almost totally covered in snakes- _

_ He laughs softly. “Your obedience pleases me, and I know just how to ‘reward’ you. You next feel me undoing your breeches. I have you stripped bare, and I pull you back hard against me. Can you feel my armour pressing against your soft skin? Can you feel how badly I  _ want _you-”_

_ She frowns. She can’t see the bite-mark, but it’s still there; she can feel the small scabs even now. “Unfortunately, I do not possess the ability to heal another,” Loki says, “but I can hide the evidence, at least, so that you do not have to. Perhaps there may come a time when you can wear my marks openly, but I can appreciate that such a time is not yet come-” _

_ His voice is a low, rough purr. “Please, my lady, remove your clothing. I wish to sample  _ those _sweet lips again-”_

_ His eyes never leave her face, their hands clasped and fingers entwined. He kisses her and it mirrors what their lower bodies are doing, gentle and unhurried. Even after breaking the kiss, his stays close, their breaths mingling and strands of his dark hair tickling her face- _

_ “Is it not obvious? I thought I was seeing to your comfort. I am sure you have had something of a trying day-” _

_ “Its beauty is the merest shadow, compared to that of the one who wears it-” _

_ “Your first task is to build the bridge, and finally the other mortals are recognizing and supporting your hard work and intellect-“ _

She can’t give in. She has to trust that someone – if not Loki, then _someone_ – will come to save her. This is torture, but it’s all in her mind. She can survive it.

She _has_ to.

But the seconds – minutes? Hours? _Days_? She can no longer tell – crawl by, and the hallucinations twist and sear through her mind, and it’s so hard to keep fighting. 

She’s cold and weak, both starving and nauseated at the same time, and her head _hurts_. 

It’s getting harder and harder to remember whether Loki is supposed to come and save her, or if he is the one keeping her prisoner and tormenting her. Her actual memories mix and combine with the poisoned ones, until she is no longer sure how she feels about Loki any longer.

Which is the real Loki?

*~*~*

Forcing the pathway yet again back to The Other’s base drains Loki’s magic significantly, but he cannot wait for it to be replenished. He has taken too long already.

Thor had suggested stealing the Tesseract from the Vault and using it to make the portal instead, but as tempting as the idea is, Loki refuses to allow it.  Besides the time and danger involved in pilfering it, the notion of having the Tesseract in such close proximity to The Other just seems like the worst possible idea anyone has ever had. And quite possibly what The Other is hoping for.

Loki’s magic alone will have to do. His power will not serve him in any case until the Guardian is killed, and after that he need only magick Jane to safety.

He is on edge at first, waiting for more of her screams to fill his mind, but for the moment he _senses_ nothing. Some part of him is frightened by the silence, and once more he pushes himself to reach for the calm he will need.

His fellow warriors stride towards The Other’s stronghold, readying their weapons, while Loki waits in the deep shadows of the rocks. He conjures his plate armour as Thor and the small band walk through the invisible boundary of the Guardian’s magic.

Mjölnir’s magic will be blunted too, Loki knows, and he explained as much to Thor – not to help Thor, but to help _himself_ – but as much as it pains Loki to admit it, Thor is stronger than him, and the better warrior. Even powerless, Mjölnir is still a formidable weapon, and neither do Sif nor the Warriors Three rely on magic to the extent Loki does. They will do fine without it, he presumes. 

It will serve. It _must_. As his ‘friends’ engage the first of the Chitauri garrison, Loki draws his knives, crosses into the sphere of The Guardian’s influence, and begins to move sideways away from the emerging battle. He has been here before, many months before the Chitauri attack on Midgard, and he remembers a few of the less-used side and back entries to The Other’s base. He will make use of such a one now, especially if they are left unguarded.

The sounds of fighting reach Loki’s ears – deep voices shouting, alien screams, the unmistakable sound of the Chitauri’s weaponry – and he hurries, crouched low to the ground since he cannot hide himself from anyone’s eyes.

The first side-entry he makes for is indeed abandoned when Loki reaches it. No surprise; the din of battle behind him is now at a fever pitch. He smiles humourlessly and ducks into the rough-hewn opening in the rock. 

He must also rely on his memory to find the Guardian, and alas he takes a few wrong turns. He is forced several times to dispatch Chitauri guards, earning him a few slashes and burn marks along his body, but nothing that does anything more than slow him down. Magic-bound he may be, but he is _still_ a god – strong, fast, and also burning with vengeance and rage.

Again, it will serve.

Finally, he locates the proper room. Even without magic, he can feel the _vibrations_ of the beast, as well as see from a distance the strange yellow-grey light of the machines that keep the thing half-alive.

He kills the six Chitauri sentries posted to protect it, taking more minor damage in the process, then he pauses in front of it to consider how it shall die. His lip curls in disgust; it is like no beast he has ever seen before, in this universe or any other. 

It is truly an offense against Yggdrasil. Ash-grey flesh, mostly bare but spotted here and there with tufts of greasy, unkempt fur. Eyes, most of them glazed and blind, scattered seemingly at random on the top half of its bulk. And the rest of it is machinery. Wires, bits and pieces of metal, and other things that Loki has no name for, though no doubt the Midgardians do, given their dependence on technology rather than magic.

None of which, sadly, helps him figure out how to destroy this being.

He thinks quickly. Like the Chitauri, the Guardian is a mix of machine and living thing. Perhaps therein lies the clue? Stark managed to slay the entire Chitauri attack force by destroying the machines carried by their lead ship. Perhaps a similar process can be employed here?

His knives may work, but they are small and will take much time, so Loki relieves one of his recently-defeated foes of their light-shooting weapon. If he severs it from its power source, he suspects the abomination will expire.

Several thick cables run from the underside of the Guardian, and Loki targets those first. The lights in the room flicker, and Loki feels the harness on his magic weaken…but only for a moment. Then a series of subordinate systems appear to take over.

His impatience and anger increasing with each passing second, Loki next blasts every cable and wire he sees connected to the thing, though his ears are always trained for approaching footsteps. Finally, his lips pressed together so tightly that they nearly disappear, he drops the steaming gun to the floor and reaches for his knives. He stabs both of them deep into the largest eye he sees, pushing them as far as they will go, hoping to damage what passes for the thing’s brain.

At last, the Guardian emits a high-pitched whine that goes through Loki’s head like a spear, and Loki feels his magic return to him, filling him like a goblet. It is not much, not after all the spells he has cast today, but it will do. As long as he has enough strength to take Jane out and a little ways away, that is all he needs.

But his relief is short-lived. With the resurgence of his power comes the renewal of his connection to Jane, and somehow, perhaps due to physical proximity, her terror and anguish hits him with a force that drives him to his knees, nausea roiling in his guts. His thoughts scatter, ripped to shreds-

He struggles to build a _wall_ in his mind, to cage her feelings for the moment so they will not distract him so. Although Thor and the others will fight the better with their magic returned, as will he, there is no cause to become complacent. Loki has not the strength to cloak himself, not if he still wishes to magick Jane free of this accursed place. 

In addition, he must be cautious; The Other likely is here somewhere in this stronghold, and he does not wish to confront it, not yet.

Fortune appears to have other plans, however. Though Loki attempts to avoid any corridors where he hears many feet running or other signs of life, reaching out his senses to locate Jane, his path leads him down one long stone hall and into a large room…

And before him, stands the one being he most did not want to meet. 

“Asgardian,” The Other purrs, taking slow steps towards Loki. “So, you _do_ value the mortal. The Master will be eager to learn of this, once I present the two of you to him to face his justice.”

“The _Master_ ,” Loki rasps, “will not be given the opportunity to lay hands on her.” Hate simmers within him and his whole body clenches, preparing for the fight.

The Other’s hands are empty, but Loki knows enough to know it is not defenseless. He draws his knives and gathers his remaining magic, even as The Other roars and _slides_ across the room to stand in front of Loki.

It grins and slams both hands to either side of Loki’s head. It’s so quick he doesn’t have the time to raise his own hands to block.

Reason abruptly deserts him. He’s back in Thanos’ clutches, chained under an unending fall of acid slowly eating his flesh away. “A preview of your fate for all eternity, Betrayer,” The Other’s voice hisses gleefully in Loki’s mind. “After, of course, the Master has flayed and dismembered your mortal whore, _alive_ , in front of you, that you may properly appreciate her screams.” It pauses. “Unless, of course, you agree to steal the Tesseract from Asgard for us. Perhaps then the Master will see fit to spare-“

In the background of his own delusions, Loki is aware of Jane. Her emotions swirl around the edges of his own pain, her torment and fear pulsing at him in waves. It _hurts_ , adding to the weight of hurt already upon him. But it also grounds him, reminds him why he is here. 

He forces the center of his mind to calm, shutting out the poison of the hallucinations and memories. Within that bastion, he wonders if perhaps The Other’s own spells can be turned against it. “You are …weak,” he hisses through gritted teeth as he falls to his knees in front of his opponent. “You enjoy giving pain…but…tell me…will you like it so well…while you are… _receiving_ it?”

Using up a large portion of his remaining magic, Loki binds _all_ the pain – both his and Jane’s – into a glowing coil in the middle of himself, fashions it into a weapon, and _pushes_ it with all his strength. Straight into the mind of The Other.

The response is immediate.

The Other howls, backing away and grasping at its own head, and Loki scoops both his daggers up from the floor and takes a staggering step, driving both home into The Other’s chest.

But The Other _is_ powerful, and a fearsomely strong arm knocks Loki into the nearest wall, the creature snarling and yanking the daggers from its body.

Black ichor leaks from each wound, though Loki can see that neither is bleeding enough to be fatal.

Loki’s helmet has fallen off, the rim dented, but it scarcely matters. He cannot win a physical battle against The Other. This much he is sure, given what Thanos told him about the creature. And as The Other laughs and edges slowly closer, thinking to draw out the moment of its victory, Loki is sure Thanos also told The Other about the limits of Loki’s magic and abilities. He would know such from the violation of Loki’s mind at their first encounter.

And yet, did Thanos tell The Other _all_? Perhaps it is time to test that.

The source from which Loki draws to fuel his illusions and other spells is severely depleted, but such is not his _only_ source of magic, is it?

His Jotun heritage brings its own abilities. Would Thanos have warned The Other of this? Loki thinks not. Thanos had enjoyed breeding conflict among his minions, sharing some weaknesses and strengths but not others…

Loki’s hair falls into his eyes as he rises slowly to his knees, and he rakes it away angrily. Such does not usually happen to him in the midst of battle, but since Jane had asked him to stop plastering it down to his skull-

_ Jane _ -

_ Yes. _ To save her, it is worth the risk, hated though this magic is. 

The Other continues its leisurely stalk towards him, still chortling. It feels sure of its prize. _Arrogant abomination._

Finally making it to his feet, and with Jane’s agony still whirling in his head, Loki tightens his jaw and allows the _cold_ to flow into him, though it takes a vicious struggle with himself. The Other pauses two paces away, confusion on its face as Loki’s skin, eyes and hair change, until his flesh is as blue as The Other’s.

It is now Loki’s turn to laugh, as well as his turn to dart forward, wrath driving him. His hand catches The Other’s wrist. With Jane’s continued screams in his head as a goad, Loki pours every ounce of _cold_ he possesses into The Other, not stopping until that power is exhausted.

The Other moans, barely able to move. And Loki, his ire not even begun to be exhausted, uses a little more of his remaining magic to crack open his pocket dimension, summoning the Casket.

Loki does not know how powerful his _cold_ is compared to other Jotuns, and he does not care to determine this, but his abilities are as nothing compared to the Casket. As with Heimdall months ago, the Casket completes what Loki started, turning The Other from flesh to solid ice in a mere handful of moments.

This time Loki will not make the same mistake twice. He banishes the Casket back into the pocket dimension, then gathers his rage.

With a final roar, Loki kicks The Other in the belly with all of his strength, with all the weight of loathing and vengeance he holds, and the thing shatters into millions of tiny pieces. 

Even then, Loki’s viciousness is not yet spent. Not until he pulverizes every last piece, grinding them into the rock floor with his boot.

He curses The Other in the Asgardian tongue as he does so, stamping and hurling epithets until a flicker of movement in one of the room’s doorways makes him drop into a defensive posture-

It is Thor. 

For a moment the two gods stare at each other. Of course, Loki realizes a second later. Thor has never before witnessed Loki’s Jotun form. Not _true_ form, no, he will never call it that, ever. 

Loki says nothing, turning away and allowing the _cold_ to fade out of him. As he does so, he feels Odin’s illusion enfold him once more.

He has used too much magic, he realizes belatedly. He has not enough left to teleport Jane away. Yet, if Thor is here, perhaps it will not be necessary?

“How goes the battle?” Loki asks, voice hoarse.

Thor gestures with Mjölnir, his face and armour streaked with blood, both his and Chitauri, and a dark bruise forming on the side of his jaw. “It is won. It went the faster once our powers were returned to us.” He hesitates, and Loki can well imagine the questions Thor must have, but his false brother merely strides forward, scraping at the glittering fragments underfoot with the toe of his boot. “Was this their leader?” Loki can almost hear Thor wondering at the violence Loki used to crush it to powder.

“Once,” Loki replies with a rattling laugh. “It should not have taken Jane. Speaking of, I must find her.”

“I will accompany you, brother,” Thor insists, though Loki scoops up his helmet from the floor and treads past Thor without dignifying him with a response. If the Chitauri are indeed all dead, then Loki no longer requires his 'brother'.

Thus he need not play this irritating game of supplication any longer.

His magic, lessened though it is, soon locates Jane. Within moments he is standing in the doorway of a tiny, rough-hewn cell.

The reek of fear, despair and blood sickens him, and he casts his helmet aside by the door of the cell and squeezes his hands into tight fists, calling a small globe of light into being. Even as part of him balks at discovering the damage that has been done to her.

The huddled shape on the floor flinches from the brightness, and Loki shuffles forward almost reluctantly and drops to his knees beside her. He cannot see her face, her hair is lying across it, and perhaps to avoid the accusation he imagines he will see in her gaze, he turns his attention elsewhere first.

He places a hand on her nearest wrist, noting the bloodied marks around each shackle at wrist and ankle, his voice edged with anger as he speaks the words of a spell to free her. The irons drop to the floor and, braced for the worst, he lifts her in his arms and carefully brushes her hair from her face.

She slumps, lax and limp, her eyes flickering behind closed lids. Loki’s jaw spasms painfully to see the bloody scratches adorning her throat above and below his gift, as if she had tried to wrest it from her neck.

“Jane,” Loki whispers at last, reaching out with magic to touch her mind-

Her eyes snap open. Unfocused at first, they clear, but with clarity comes _fear_. She twists and writhes, and unwilling to frighten her further, Loki lets her go, though she stumbles over her own limbs and falls back to the floor with an ungainly thump, avoiding his steadying hand.

She pants as she crawls backwards, her eyes darting around the room as if looking for somewhere, _anywhere_ , to escape to.

“ _Jane_ ,” Loki tries again, reaching out towards her. What manner of evil has been done to her?

“Get away from me, you monster!” she screams hoarsely, her voice cracking. 

Loki’s own throat closes tight and he stares at her, stricken. For her to _say_ such a thing to him-

Her terrified gaze shifts to look past Loki. “Thor, please, help me! Don’t let him hurt me anymore!”

Loki had forgotten about Thor. Now the thunder god’s hand grasps Loki’s arm painfully tight, jerking him to his feet even as Loki divines what has happened. “What does she speak of, Loki?” Thor rumbles angrily. “Is this some new scheme of yours? Because by Yggdrasil, if you lied to me, if _you_ have been the one harming her-“

Loki curses, throwing an elbow into Thor’s guts and then shoving him into the wall with another curse. “ _Fool._ So quick to ascribe ill intent to me, once again? No, it was not I,” Loki snarls. “If it had been me, what purpose would it serve me to recruit you to rescue her? Do you see a trap laid before you here?”

Thor fiddles with Mjölnir, clearly unconvinced, while behind them, Jane sobs rackingly. “What then?”

Loki shakes his head and returns to Jane, though he stops a few paces from her, reaching out carefully with the last of his magic, until he senses the glowing threads of the spell binding her reason. 

Yes, he should have realized as much. The more fool he. “A specialty of The Other, I fear. A spell to take one’s memories and twist them, to re-enact them in visions where loved ones turn into torturers, to poison the mind with terror and agony. Alas, I know it well; the same magic was used on me whilst I was their…guest.”

“Do you know how to break it?” demands Thor worriedly.

“Perhaps, though it may not be possible until I have regained more of my strength. But I will try. Be silent and let me work,” Loki growls impatiently.

Jane tries to struggle free when he touches her, but he does not allow her to escape this time. The hoarse cries she emits make him cringe, and he quickly lays his hand on her head, trying to soothe her as best he can.

Carefully, he reaches inside her beleaguered mind and starts to unravel the tangles of The Other’s spell. 

He reflects on how stupid he had been, to think that her physical health was the only thing at risk once she’d been taken, although he suspects that has been compromised as well. There is blood leaking slowly from her nose, and he can vaguely sense the other physical troubles that plague her. This air is insufficient for her needs, he suspects. As a god, he and the others are not affected, but his Midgardian is not so fortunate.

Well, first he will see to her mind, and then her body.

It is a long process, and several times Loki feels as though he is pulling power right from the very marrow of his bones, but finally the spell is broken. Loki is left utterly spent and drained of all magic, but Jane blinks the tears out of her eyes and sees him at last. Truly _sees_ him.

“Loki,” she whispers, her voice almost unrecognizable to his ears; it’s nearly a croak. “You came for me.”

He raises an eyebrow at that, frowning. Did she doubt him _again_? He chooses not to remember his moment of cowardice in the desert. “Of course I did, my Jane.”

Jane’s gaze shifts to Thor, who is looming over them both, and she smiles at last, her lips chapped and dry. “I see you even brought the cavalry.”

Loki shrugs. “I required some aid, yes.”

But Jane’s eyelids are already slipping shut, exhaustion and relief relaxing the strain in her face. “Will you take me home? Please?” she asks.

“Of course,” Loki repeats. He pulls his cape free and wraps her in it, cradling her carefully in his arms as he rises. He doesn’t look at Thor.

Wordlessly, he carries Jane past Thor and out, continuing to walk until he is outside The Other’s stronghold, picking his way around the blood pools and strewn corpses of the Chitauri garrison. He does not stop until he has reached Sif and the others. Only then does he look up from Jane’s face.

They, like Thor, are bloodied and battered but overall whole. Not that Loki cares a whit.

“Is she-“ Volstagg asks tentatively.

“Yet alive, but hurt. We are not sure of the extent of the harm that has been caused,” Thor supplies, sparing Loki the effort. “Brother, we should take her to Asgard-“

Loki glares at Thor and shakes his head, setting his shoulders as if expecting a battle. “We are going nowhere until my strength has returned – my magic is not infinite. And then will I return _you_ _all_ to Asgard. But she and I will be traveling to Midgard.”

“The healers of Asgard-“

“I care not,” Loki interrupts Thor coldly. “If I return, Odin will have me imprisoned once more, and I will not abide that. Besides, Jane asked to go home. You heard her yourself, did you not? ‘Home’ is Midgard. If the Midgardians prove unable to help her, _then_ will I bring her to Asgard. Not before.”

Thor’s brow darkens, but after a long moment, he seems to relent. “Very well, Loki. Send our friends home, but I will return with you to Midgard.”

Loki rolls his eyes, thoroughly irritated, and lowers himself down to the ground, settling Jane into his lap. “To what purpose? To stand over me with Mjölnir, born of some misguided sense of-“

“ _No_ ,” now it is Thor’s turn to interrupt. “I apologize for my earlier words, brother. But will you not agree that I am on better terms with the Midgardians than you?”

Loki raises his brow. “A moronic question; we all know the answer to that.”

“Then you will need me, Loki,” Thor asserts, ignoring Loki’s insult. “SHIELD and Director Nick Fury mistrust you, and surely it is possible that if you arrive back on Midgard with Jane in such a state, they may not take you at your word? If I am there to vouch for you, I can only imagine things will go the smoother.”

Loki bites back another sharp retort. He’s seen to that already, hasn’t he, with Lady Darcy? 

Still, the strategist in him must acknowledge (grudgingly) that Thor has a point. As one of their lauded Avengers, Thor’s presence and words will no doubt assure the best and most rapid care for Jane, and perhaps this may even improve Loki’s standing with the mortals in the long run? 

He would much prefer for things to return to what they had been, at least for the moment; with both Jane and himself on Midgard. He does not think Jane is yet ready to abandon her current life, to spend it a fugitive in Yggdrasil. Despite all the wonders he would enjoy showing her.

Still, some part of him wonders at Thor’s insistence. Perhaps Thor does doubt him still? Well, no matter either way. So Loki agrees, but warily. He has come to expect traps lying in wait for him everywhere, given the events of the last mortal year. He will not let down his guard.

*~*~*

It takes nearly the entire length of an Asgardian day for Loki’s magic to build to a useful level again. Loki chafes at the wait, even though he knows he needs to rest. He checks constantly on Jane but she does not wake, and the state of her health does not appear to worsen. That, at least, brings him some measure of relief.

Finally he is ready. First he sends Sif and the Warriors back to Asgard, waiting until he knows them safe on the Asbru Bridge before calling that end of the pathway back to himself.

He bends the pathway a final time, the process coming with much more ease now that he has had so much recent practice – surely this will prove useful if and when Thanos or other agents of his come calling – and before long they find themselves on Midgard. At Thor’s suggestion, they materialize in the middle of the bridge of the so-called Helicarrier.

Much as Thor predicted, the reaction is swift – guns are drawn, curses are muttered - but with Thor attempting to appease the mortals and Loki’s hands obviously occupied with holding Jane, no violence ensues. 

Soon Fury, flanked by Barton and Romanov, arrives on the scene. He takes in everything, his single eye narrowed, then orders everyone to be at their ease and beckons Loki and his semiconscious burden forward.

“I’ll take you to Medical,” Fury says, Thor falling into step behind them both.

“Injuries?” Fury asks curtly as they stride down the corridor. 

“I believe the air where she was held was insufficient to sustain your kind for long periods,” Loki explains, striving to keep his tone as clinical and detached as Fury’s, lest his emotions overwhelm him. “She has abrasions from her bindings, her nose bleeds at times, and I can sense other hurts – headache, weakness, nausea. She was also tortured with a spell to inject terrors into her mind, but I doubt much can be done about that last, except for the passage of time.”

Fury nods, stopping in front of a large double door, and he motions them to proceed ahead of him as the doors sigh open.

Loki brushes by all the people in the room and deposits Jane on the nearest bed, then resists the efforts of the mortals to move him from Jane’s side. Distantly, he is aware of Fury and Thor talking – discussing him, no doubt.

“Come, Loki,” Thor urges, appearing at his side. “Let the mortals do their work.” But Loki does not wish to heed him, so he does not. When Thor attempts to press the issue, Loki bares his teeth at him and jerks his arm free of Thor’s grip-

Loki’s hand accidentally strikes the side of Jane’s bed, and spins it in a nearly-complete circle. Mortals scatter everywhere, and Jane wakes with a gasp.

“Loki!” Thor hisses warningly.

“Oh, very well,” Loki growls. “In but a moment.” 

He stalks over to Jane’s bed and re-orients it back to its starting position. “My apologies,” he says unwillingly to the mortals milling nervously around them, then he turns to her. “Be at ease, Jane, you are safe. These Midgardian healers will attend to you now.”

“Thank you,” she whispers. Her voice still sounds strange to his ears, but some of the light is back in her eyes when she looks at him, and she smiles sleepily. 

Guilt tears at him with taloned claws.

He allows Thor to lead him back out into the hallway, but the farther away he moves from Jane, the worse he feels. 

This is all his fault. 

*~*~*

When Loki returns later, Jane is asleep, an odd sort of muzzle affixed to her face. The Midgardian healers, still uneasy around him, had explained that it is oxygen, to combat the damage that had been done.

Then they had left, leaving him to grip her cold limp hand gently within his own, to watch her still form and wish, passionately, that he had been prudent enough, _intelligent_ enough, to have spared her all this.

It is a poor reward she has been given, for all the gifts she has given _him_ so freely.

Loki had told his full story to Fury, in Thor’s presence, which included confirming the events that Fury had heard himself from Lady Darcy. Thor had also added his own perspective, in agreement with Loki’s, from time-to-time during the discussion. 

Loki supposes that the sole positive thing to have come from this terrible experience is that Fury had seemed satisfied. Or at least satisfied enough to allow Loki to return to Jane, and the one-eyed leader of men hadn’t even posted guards to follow after.

Though perhaps that last was merely because Fury realized how entirely useless such an exercise would be.

But that small victory has little luster. The Other had _found_ Loki, and perhaps it had already communicated that fact to Thanos, before Loki killed it? Even if Loki redoubles his efforts, strengthens his cloak and his warning-spells, puts spells of protection on Jane…will it be enough? Does he dare risk her again? 

Does he dare risk experiencing once more those horrific feelings of panic and fear, and now the guilt?

Unbidden, Jane’s accusation comes back to him. _Get away from me, you_ monster _!_

It even has echoes: _Because I am the_ monster _parents tell their children about at night?_

Loki knows in his heart that Jane had not meant it, as confused and bespelled as she had been. 

Yet, was it not effectively _true_? Though he had suspected at the start of their arrangement how dangerous it might be to involve her, to allow himself to become close to her and the comfort she offered, in his arrogance he had ignored his instincts. He had not recognized that _she_ might be the one to ultimately pay for the poor choices he had made so many months ago, when he had released his grip on Gungnir and fallen into the abyss.

Not to mention- why give his enemies another way to hurt him?

Perhaps both of them would be better off-

The doors swish open, cutting off Loki’s gloomy thoughts, and he looks up to see Selvig standing in the doorway. Loki’s jaw tightens, but Jane’s mortal friends have as much right to see her as he does, so he releases Jane’s hand reluctantly and gets to his feet. “Dr. Selvig,” he says quietly, eyes lowered lest he give some new offense, “You probably wish for some time alone with Jane.”

He does not wait for an answer, sweeping past the other man, but Erik’s low, bitter voice follows after him, freezing Loki in his tracks.

“I told her you were bad for her.”

Loki’s shoulders stiffen until they ache, but for once he can find nothing to say in reply. For a brief moment he is tempted to turn and strike the foolish mortal who dares to insult him, but no doubt that is exactly what Selvig wants.

And besides, is that not exactly what Loki himself was just pondering?

He marches off before the scientist can make another cutting and accurate observation.

*~*~*

Loki finds Thor standing on what the mortals refer to as the observation deck, looking out at the rolling waves of the ocean beneath them.

“Loki!” Thor greets him. “How is Jane?” 

“The healers tell me she is stable. They are giving her oxygen, and also medicines to treat her headache and nausea.” Loki does not bother to share the complicated names of the medicines.

Thor nods and smiles, reaching to clasp Loki’s shoulder. “You did well, brother.”

Loki grinds his jaws together. Bad enough that he did _not_ do ‘well’. Had he done _well_ , Jane would never have been put in this predicament. Never suffered for his arrogance.

He requires a target for his anger. “I am _not_ your brother, _Odin_ son. And saying it constantly will not make it so. _Ever_.” 

But Thor does not rise to the bait. Instead, his eyes sharpen as he studies Loki’s face. “What troubles you, Loki? Jane is safe now.”

“Nothing,” Loki lies, already losing his taste for argument. “I am merely tired. Bending pathways between Realms is not a power I exercise often, and doing so multiple times has left me weary.” He pauses, thinking quickly, then adds a further lie: “Indeed, it will be several days before I will be able to return you to Asgard.”

Thor nods, appearing unconcerned. “Do not trouble yourself, Loki. I am in no hurry to return home.” He grimaces, and Loki wonders just how strained things have become between Thor and Odin, though he does not ask. His curiosity is muted; he has far more practical matters to consider.

“I would prefer to remain until Jane is cured,” Thor continues, “in case you need to bring her to Asgard after all. I would go with you, help you plead your case before Odin.”

Loki toils to keep his face blank, even as his wrath rises and seethes below the surface. “I thank you,” he manages to fib. _Plead before Odin? Hah!_

“Now, if you will excuse me,” Loki declares, “I wish to go see to Jane.”

Thor nods at him, and Loki turns on his heel and paces from the room before the urge to strangle Thor overcomes his good sense (or such of it that he still possesses).

Once in the hall, Loki reaches out with his magic. Selvig is still with Jane, which does not improve Loki’s black mood at all. 

_ I told her you were bad for her. _

His shoulders aching with tension, Loki searches for a quiet corner of the flying fortress in which to sit and think. _Alone._

*~*~*

Two days later the doctors pronounce her well enough to get out of bed, and Fury orders Jane to return home for some much-needed rest.

Jane does feel much better physically, though everything is still jumbled up in her head. She knows who she is, and who Loki is, and yet…it’s like there’s some shadowy after-image in her brain. As if her memories somehow exist on multiple planes at once, and in all of them except this one, Loki is as twisted and evil as so many believe him to be. And _worse_.

It does not help that Loki has been acting so oddly lately. He is quieter than usual around her, more detached. Although Thor had told her that Loki had sat with her nearly that entire first day while she had slept, gripping her hand as if he had been still in fear of losing her, Jane can’t remember him holding it at all in the last two days.

Perhaps he is uncomfortable showing affection to her around so many people who were effectively his adversaries not so long ago. Or maybe it’s Thor’s presence? Thor expresses warmth and caring much more openly than Loki, and maybe Loki fears this reflects badly on him, given he is much more reserved?

But she also has to consider the very real possibility that this is all in her damaged psyche. Maybe she’s _looking_ for problems, for evidence that the real Loki is not as he claims to be. Maybe it’s her who is exaggerating the gulf between Thor’s easy, friendly manner and Loki’s awkwardness.

All in all, it is a relief when she gets the order to return home. Loki will be teleporting them back, of course, and then apparently he’ll be sending Thor back to Asgard as well.

Jane will need to ask Loki to tell her the full story of her rescue, once she feels better. She’s heard everyone else’s side of it so far – Thor’s, Darcy’s (the latter by phone), and Fury’s. But not his.

When Loki works his magic and they end up standing in the center of her living room, the barely-lived in apartment feels very welcoming. As is Darcy, who shows up not five minutes later. The women hug tightly, nearly babbling with relief.

Through it all, Jane is aware of Loki and how distant he seems, watching them as if they are strangers to him.

Even Darcy notices it, which at least confirms it’s not all in Jane’s head. “What’s up with _him_? Do male Asgardians get periods or something?” she asks Jane in a low voice after pulling her aside into the kitchen.

Jane shakes her head and glances back at the living area. “I really don’t know. He hasn’t really talked to me since I regained something like real consciousness. Maybe he’s just tired? Thor told me Loki drained all his magic trying to round everyone up, killing the head bad guy, and rescuing me.” Jane leans against the counter. That’s the other lingering problem she has – complete and utter exhaustion after the smallest effort. Maybe it’s not so crazy to think that Loki is just as worn out as she is, if for different reasons?

Jane tries to stifle a yawn, and though she doesn’t intend it to be interpreted that way at all, Darcy takes it as a hint. “Well, you’re obviously tired so I’ll leave you to rest. Give me a call if you need anything, OK? Or just to talk. I’m even willing to talk shop, if you want.” Darcy adds with a smirk.

“Thanks, Darcy.” Jane hugs her again. “Oh, and thanks for helping Loki. I don’t know all the details, but Fury told me you basically helped make sure the Earth wouldn’t be caught with its pants down if there was another alien army on the way.”

Darcy shrugs. “Just helping out a friend,” Darcy replies. She winks at Jane and crosses the living room, heading towards the door. “Later, Loki!” She calls over her shoulder, but Loki mumbles something in response that Jane can’t make out.

The door closes, and they are alone together.

Jane wobbles a bit on unsteady feet as she walks towards the couch. She looks wistfully over towards the bedroom, but if something is bothering Loki, she’d rather talk it out first with him, if he’ll let her.

She sits down and reaches out a hand to him, though he doesn’t move, he just stares out the window.

“Loki,” Jane tries, “I don’t remember if I thanked you-“

“Thanks are not necessary,” he contradicts her in that strange low, flat voice which has been his default over the past two days. When he has spoken to her at all.

Jane shifts uncomfortably and frowns. “What’s the matter, Loki? Talk to me.”

Loki says nothing for a very, _very_ long moment. When he speaks at last, he turns towards her, but his eyes do not meet hers.

“Regretfully, I must dissolve our ‘arrangement’,” he says in that same empty tone. 

Jane’s eyes widen. He says nothing else, and a cold feeling starts in the pit of her stomach. “Wh- what?” she stutters. Surely he didn’t say that, she must be imagining-

“While it has been most enjoyable, the time has come for me to focus on other, more important things.” 

Jane just stares at him, her heart thudding heavily in her ears. Words fail her.

“Yggdrasil is at risk,” Loki goes on, “and I was a fool not to put it first. Thanos will surely make a play for the Tesseract. I must return to Asgard and defend it, or there will soon be nothing left. Everything will _end_.”

Jane finally gets her jaw to work. “If you need to go away for awhile, that’s OK. I understand. And I’m sure everybody would appreciate your efforts to help. But I don’t see why that means we have to _end_ things completely-“

“It is a _distraction_ , that is why. I have been selfish, focusing on mere physical pleasure, when I should have been thinking about the good of the Nine Realms.”

“’Mere physical pleasure’?” Jane asks, her voice rising in pitch. “I don’t understand you at all. First you come running to save me…and now _this_? Why are you trying to end our relationship?”

“’Relationship?’” he hisses, meeting her gaze at last, and his eyes are so cold that for a moment Jane can almost believe that her hallucinations were close to reality; that there’s only a thin veneer separating them from the real Loki. She shrinks back into the cushions, heart pounding and icy sweat starting at her temples as he continues, his voice a growling rasp: “We did not have a _relationship_. We had an _arrangement_ ; an exchange of sexual intercourse and physical comfort. A tumble between sheets, for mutual entertainment. No more than that.” 

The cold feeling in her stomach intensifies, nausea twisting inside her. 

“Don’t _I_ get a say in all this?” She tries reaching for anger, but she’s too tired and beaten down.

Deep in her bones, she knows that this battle is already lost.

“No,” Loki says curtly, turning his searing gaze away again. “It is _done_. Be assured, Jane Foster of Midgard, that though it obviously seems cruel to you right now, this is better for all concerned. Were we to continue our arrangement, surely you would once again become a target for Thanos and his allies. I am doing this for _you_.”

“No,” Jane retorts, trying to muster the last of her energy, “You’re not. I don’t know _why_ you are doing it. What makes you think they won’t come after me anyway, whether we are involved or not?”

But she’s arguing to an empty room. He’s already gone.

The silence presses on her temples and ears and she slumps on the couch, empty inside.

It makes no sense. Why rush across the universe, with Thor and a small group of Asgardians in tow, bring her back here…only to basically tell her that what they’d had was worth _nothing_?

How could he leave her like this, with her brain still addled by The Other’s spell, having to remind herself half the time of what’s actually happened to her and what was only poisoned delusion?

Unless…this had all been exactly what Erik and Fury had been telling her from the start – a lie. An elaborate ruse to get her to dump Thor, and then to cripple her emotionally.

If so, she had bought into his act. Hook, line, and sinker.

She’d let herself dare to fall in love with him, to trust him, despite all the warning signs. Despite even the evidence she’d witnessed with her own eyes – Loki stalking her, _threatening_ her. 

Probably him backing off that very first time they’d met in person had been part of his strategy. Present himself as empathetic, as _human_ , so she’d be dumb enough to trick herself into getting involved with him, into thinking she had made the choice to be with him, instead of realizing he was manipulating her...

_ It’s true, I  _ am _the world’s dumbest smart person._

Her head aches and her ears ring, and when she puts her hands automatically to the back of her neck, trying to relieve some of the oppressive tightness there, a final unpleasant surprise undoes her: Loki’s necklace is still around her throat.

Jane puts her face into her hands and sobs, rocking slowly back and forth on the couch, numb and aching at the same time.

She’s never felt so alone before.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Part Five of the Light in the Dark series. Loki and Jane must deal with their respective demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Much appreciation as always to the fabulous canyr12.  
> Disclaimer: I neither own nor pwn these characters…except for the OMC, I suppose.  
> Author’s Note: Still set in the Movie!verse. 
> 
>   
>  
> 
> Banner courtesy of the lovely **cincoflex**!

Jane shoves the tears away at last. It gives her a kind of brittle satisfaction to be able to do that. She’s never been one for crying, it has never served any purpose except to turn her eyes and nose red and make her nose run and her head ache. 

There has to be a better way to deal with this. To solve this newest…equation. That’s the safest way to think about it. 

It hurts less.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting there, but with no lights on, it’s getting pretty dark in the living room. Her head _aches_ from the crying and from exhaustion and right at this precise moment she wants nothing more than to sleep. 

To just to close her eyes and forget everything. Not just The Other’s torture, not just Loki dumping her, but _everything_ – Asgard, SHIELD, Stark, even Thor. Right now, she thinks she would give anything to go back to that night when Thor had fallen to Earth…and somehow, erase it. To _not_ be the one who had found him. That’s what had set off this whole sorry chain of events.

She longs for the days when her emotional ups and downs had consisted of either where her next grant was going to come from, or of trying to convince the rest of the academic community that she wasn’t a total lunatic for her wormhole theories. Those days seem like a luxury right now.

_ Sleep. Yes. _ she thinks wearily. With any luck, maybe somehow she’ll manage to have a good sleep. Her life has become a waking nightmare, so how much worse can her usual nightmares be? 

Holding onto that thought, Jane wobbles to her feet, holding onto the couch until she’s sure she won’t fall. _Later_ , she promises herself. She’ll try to figure all this out later-

Jane is halfway to her bedroom when she remembers the necklace yet again. No, she decides impulsively, it belongs to _him_ , and she wants it off of her. Right _now_. 

She changes course and heads into the bathroom, wincing as the fluorescent light over the bathroom mirror sears into her eyes and head. A glance at her own tear-swollen face earns another wince, before she leans close to the mirror, clamping down more strongly on her emotions as the sight of the necklace stirs more unpleasant feelings.

Jane remembers when he gave it to her, but all the happiness of that memory has been poisoned. Not by any hallucination of The Other’s, but by Loki’s own actions. 

_ No. Later. _ She carefully studies the part where the snake’s head is biting down into its own tail, but there’s no obvious clasp there.

The Other’s voice, amused and unwelcome, swirls through her mind as she tugs on the necklace, turning it on her neck as she searches along the length of the snake for some kind of fastening: _That collar you wear reeks of the Asgardian’s magic. It tells me exactly to whom you belong. Who_ owns _you._

_ Nobody  _ owns _me, least of all some asshole of a Norse God,_ Jane sneers back at the voice, icy rage rising inside her and driving her headache up another notch as she continues to turn the necklace…until she is back at the snake’s head.

No clasp. No hinges. Just smooth interlocking scales, unbroken. 

Her spine stiffens in sheer indignation. _How do I get this fucking thing_ off _?_

No, she can’t wear this, she _won’t_. She weaves her fingers around the snake as much as she can without strangling herself (which isn’t much; it’s more-or-less a choker) and tugs. 

There’s no give, and she pulls harder, but she only winds up cutting off her own air and making the necklace dig painfully into the back of her neck. 

She releases it, her breath whistling in her throat, and she realizes she’s on the edge of panic. She wants this thing off of her, _right now_ , and it won’t come off, she’s trapped-

She glances up into the mirror again, and Loki is standing right behind her. 

He’s in full armour, with a knife in his hand, his teeth bared at her in a smiling snarl which is heart-stoppingly familiar to Jane. 

She shrieks, the noise echoing loudly in the small room, and whirls to face him, bringing her hands up defensively even though she knows she has no chance. He’s bigger, stronger, faster, and if he hates her enough to come back here just to kill her-

She’s alone. There’s no one in here with her.

Another hallucination, or an echo of one, but it doesn’t matter. The dam has broken once more, and Jane collapses to the floor, sobbing all over again, overwhelmed. 

Kidnapped, tortured, dumped…how is she supposed to get past this?

She can’t do this alone, she realizes. She’s used to being strong – has _had_ to be, for a very long time – but this is beyond her strength.

She stumbles out of the bathroom, half-blinded by tears. Jane realizes she has no idea where her backpack and cell phone are. She had them last when she was yanked into the sky-

That sets off another wave of tears, and Jane struggles to see through them as she makes for her landline. The phone is sitting on an upside-down, empty moving box, but its esthetics hardly matter right now. It’s plugged in and it works, and that’s all that’s relevant to Jane right now. She dials, squinting through the shimmer of tears.

“D-Darcy?” she says when the other woman answers the phone. “Please, I, I need…” Her attempt at a sentence ends in a sob.

“Jane, are you alr- No, never mind, totally dumb question,” Darcy corrects herself, her voice quickly turning crisp. “I’ll be right over.”

About ten minutes later Jane’s doorbell rings, and she drags herself up off the floor next to the door of the apartment to buzz Darcy in. Darcy takes in the scene in one sweeping glance – Jane’s reddened eyes and tear-streaked face, and the complete absence of a certain god – and sinks down next to Jane. She wraps her arms around her and asks flatly: “What did that _bastard_ do?”

“He…” The words stick like razors in Jane’s throat. “He said…he said it was better to end things. Then he blipped off before I could even _talk_ to him about it.” Jane manages to say. The rest just leaves her with such a deep sense of shame that she knows if she tries to explain it, she’ll just start crying all over again.

“And I’m…s-still seeing things. After he left, I hallucinated that he was behind me in the bathroom, ready to c-carve me into pieces-” 

Darcy’s brow scrunches in confusion as she passes Jane a crumpled-up Kleenex from her pocket. “What the hell?” Darcy asks the air, her tone disbelieving. “He came and fucking _kneeled_ to me, Jane. He begged me to take care of things with SHIELD so he could concentrate on running to Asgard to recruit some help to save you…” Darcy lets the sentence trail off, shaking her head. “Men are so stupid,” she adds. 

Jane blinks. “Huh?” 

Darcy gives Jane an assessing look. “Later, OK? One problem at a time, and the first one is: Why the _fuck_ did Fury let you go home like this? No counseling, no support. You’re still hallucinating, for Chrissakes-“

“He offered,” Jane interrupts, “I said no. I guess I figured…” she shrugs weakly.

“-that your boyfriend would help you through it, especially since he’s been around _that_ block before.” Darcy almost violently shakes her head again and reaches for her cell. “That asshole,” she mutters.

“Who are you calling?“

“Fury, of course. You’ve been tortured and now you’re seeing things. You obviously need rest, and I doubt you’re going to get any _here_. Maybe you’ll even need sedatives or something, but I’m no doctor. Either way Fury will know what to do, or who to contact who _will_ know what to do.”

“You have a direct line to Fury?” Jane asks, surprised.

“I do now. One of the useful things your stupid dumbass of a god did for me. Fury was calling me almost hourly for updates between the time he debriefed me on Loki and the time you and Loki and Thor materialized right under the Director’s nose. I guess Fury figured you might return here first-“ she breaks off and punches several numbers on her phone.

She turns to meet Jane’s eyes as she sets the phone back to her ear. “You’re going to get through this, Jane,” she says firmly, as if she expects Jane to argue about it. “We’re going to deal with things the same way we do with things in the lab – one problem at a time, OK? Hallucinations first, and asshole Norse God boyfriends second. Deal?”

Despite everything, Jane has to smile at that. It even sounds like excellent advice. “Deal.”

Darcy nods firmly. “And remember, I got you covered for the first pints of the post-breakup ice cream binge. D’you prefer something with chocolate, or caramel?”

*~*~*

He has lost everything. 

His identity as Asgardian, his place as prince, his family, his old life, and now even his only meager source of affection, the mortal.

Loki has lost the desire even to fight. He feels numbed, distant from himself and all else around him.

When Loki magicks himself back to Thor after releasing Jane from their ‘arrangement’, Thor appears to assume that all is well. Good, Loki has no strength or desire to argue the point.

Thor raises no protest when Loki wordlessly begins the spell-casting to create a portal for him to return to Asgard. Perhaps Thor assumes his ‘brother’ is angry at him again. Some infinitesimal part of Loki wonders why Thor is not trying to make further overtures of friendship. Perhaps it is because Thor has finally seen Loki’s true form.

Loki indifferently brushes these notions off. 

It is only when the two of them materialize on the Asbru bridge and Thor realizes Loki is still beside him, only then does his former brother realize something is amiss.

“Loki? Are you not returning to Midgard?”

Loki does not react, merely looks out over the side of the Bridge, eyes on the rolling waves all around them. A landscape at once so familiar and yet so hated to him.

Though he cannot see Thor’s face, he can picture the latter’s brows drawing together as he queries: “What of Jane-”

“I am not returning to Midgard,” Loki replies harshly, his voice thick and slow. He holds out his wrists to his former brother, though his gaze is now locked, if unfocused, on the palace far away. A short time ago, his pride would not have allowed him to fall so far, but of what use have such things proven to him?

“Take me to my cell. I am certain Odin has one already prepared.”

Thor grasps Loki’s arms, but loosely, seeking to draw his attention. “Loki, speak. What has happened?”

It is none of his affair, but perhaps once Loki satisfies his curiosity, the oaf will leave him in blessed silence. “It is finished between us,” Loki explains flatly.

Thor releases him then, an accustomed tension rising in his voice. “ _What_? What nonsense is-?”

“That is between the mortal and myself, and thus _none of your concern_ ,” Loki cuts him off, his voice a dry rasp. Distantly, he is aware of a tall shape which can only be Heimdall, as well as a small contingent of the palace Guard, approaching.

Good, they will take him into custody and away from his not-brother’s pointless questions.

He lowers his gaze, staring down at the shifting kaleidoscope of the Asbru bridge’s surface, listlessly awaiting his fate. Indeed, why fight? All his attempts to do so have yielded little fruit.

When two of the Guards reach to take Loki’s arms, however, Thor’s meaty bicep crosses into his field of vision, intercepting them. “ _No_ ,” Thor says vehemently. “He goes _not_ to prison.” 

Loki says nothing. _Sentiment,_ he thinks, though there is little energy behind it.

“Inform the servants that they are to prepare my brother’s old rooms. Go, _now_.” Heimdall, standing nearby, grips his weapon but keeps his own counsel, though such does not truly surprise Loki.

The majority of the Guards scatter, racing off to do Thor’s bidding, and the old jealousy curls through Loki’s belly despite his apathy. Thor still has everything whereas Loki has nothing. Little has changed, despite Loki’s best efforts in that direction.

He brushes this aside and starts the long walk. Thor follows, as do the two Guards who remain to escort them to the palace. Heimdall remains on the Bridge, as is his wont. 

At the palace entrance a familiar female voice calls his name, but Loki does not acknowledge his former mother. His face remains blank, his eyes on the golden knot-work patterning the stairway rising before him. 

He allows Thor to guide him up the stairs, listening indifferently as Thor informs Frigga of his intentions to install Loki in the palace.

Despite Loki’s indifference, out of sheer habit he almost raises his eyes to glare his loathing when the most hated voice of all intrudes into his ears – _The All-Father_. 

Loki decides even that is not worth the effort.

An argument ensues. Odin raps Gungnir on the floor and commands that Loki be taken back to his prior cell, while Thor refuses, calmly at first but quickly escalating to angry shouts. Frigga, as ever the peacemaker, tries to cool their ire, and despite himself Loki finds mild enjoyment in the chaos his presence has caused. No other pleasures remain to him, after all.

Eventually Frigga manages to direct her husband and son to a more private place to debate the matter, leaving Loki alone in the company of the Guards. For a moment Loki considers cloaking himself and stirring an even greater uproar, but his meager amusement is already subsiding. His old tricks, like everything else, have lost much of their luster. He is exhausted, too tired of all of this.

After an eternity the palace doors open again and Thor returns, beckoning Loki forward.

“Back to my prison?” Loki asks, though he finds he cannot bring himself to truly care. What is another prison? All of Yggdrasil is no different than a prison to him now. 

Thor shakes his head, his voice curt. “No. Your old rooms. Mother and I were able to reason with Father.”

Thor looks displeased despite this outcome, but Loki again cannot raise much glee at the sight.

As they walk to his old rooms, Loki becomes aware that he is feeling a mixture of anger, nostalgia and homesickness familiar from his last visit here. When he had come to beg Thor to help him save-

He arrests that line of thinking.

They leave him alone in his rooms, though two palace Guards are posted outside. He supposes before this point he might have taken some pleasure in the fact that somehow Thor and Frigga had triumphed over Odin, but now…he shrugs. Even if it is a victory of sorts, it is infinitesimal and hollow.

He raises his eyes reluctantly and looks around. He remembers this room all too well. That massive bed, inlaid with gold and jade accents. The tall mirror in the corner of the room. The bookcase piled high and deep with all his old spell and lore books, and the marble-topped desk at which he used to spend long hours poring over them. Or coming up with new pranks…

Jane would recognize these rooms from the dream he’d conjured for her, though it seems like eons ago to him now. He remembers when her dream-self had paused to look in the mirror, examining the costume he’d created for her-

Again, he presses the thoughts of her aside. 

His eye alights on a small chest against the far wall, below the graceful arch of the tall windows. In a fit of inspiration he realizes he needs alcohol. _Now_.

He is relieved to find that his small stash of precious mead has apparently remained untouched all these months. He yanks the cork out of one bottle with his teeth, swallowing nearly half the bottle in one reckless gulp. 

He seizes an armful of bottles and huddles against the side of his bed, emptying the first one and then pushing it away, watching dully as it rolls across the floor.

But soon enough he is aware of anger festering in his guts. He glares at the walls, seething at the thought of how low he has sunk. And much of it because of _her_.

Yes, developing feelings for her, that _mortal_ , has made him weak. He is truly surprised that none of his former ‘friends’ had laughed at him when he had come running to them for aid. For a warrior of Asgard to show such weakness, such _sentiment_. Truly, he has made the right choice, resolving to keep as much distance between himself and _her_ as possible. Yes.

He has allowed himself to develop a soft spot, a hole in his armour through which his enemies can strike at him. Through which others can laugh at him: the Asgardian god, brought low by the love of a mortal woman. By the _need_ of the love of a mortal woman. Pathetic!

Loki cannot allow that to ever happen again. 

He uncorks a second bottle and takes a deep swig as his ruminations race on.

Bad enough he has allowed her to soften him as she had Thor, but his foolish _feelings_ have made Jane a target. Utterly unforgivable; fragile little mortals have no place in the business of gods, or of those who court Death. 

Yes, how half-witted he has been. Doubtless even his brainless not-brother would have realized the danger to Jane _before_ the enemy had discovered her existence. Or how dangerous she could be to _him_ , diminishing him as she had.

At least now he has taken the appropriate path, for once in his accursed life. 

He drains the rest of the potent Asgardian mead and finally begins to feel the effects, his thoughts beginning to slow. By Yggdrasil, it is about time.

But his thoughts, while their pace is eased, do not cease their focus on _her_.

_ And besides, why  _ should _I care for her?_ he argues with himself. Has he not noticed on countless occasions how she doubts him? Observed the evidence of her lack of faith in him? Perhaps allowing her to _reduce_ him the way she had might have been forgivable if she had given him complete and utter faith and devotion in return, but such had _not_ been that case.

Oh, he had convinced himself otherwise before rescuing her, but now…now that the costs have proven so high, the effect on him so deleterious, his memories soon turn to focus on every instance of her doubt, her questions.

How could he possibly have brought himself to love someone who doubted him so?

_ I called your name yesterday at least once. Probably ‘summoned’ you in my head at least fifty times. But I didn’t see you for  _ hours-

_ How could I  _ not _have doubts, Loki? You’ve never tried to explain to me what happened, why you attacked us. Never mind the fact that, as everyone has reminded me over and over lately- you’re_ the God of Lies _! I thought you’d abandoned me-_

Soon one in particular stands out to him: _What would you have done if you had won the_ _ Battle _ _ of  _ _ Manhattan _ _? _ He can still remember the quaver in her voice as she’d asked the question.

No doubt she thinks he would have hunted her down and tortured her, perhaps _forced_ her into his bed. _What sort of monster does she think I-_

_ Get away from me, _ you monster _!_

Her shriek rings in his head, and he reaches for a third bottle, opening it in one vicious movement that almost shatters its neck.

Half of him knows, argues that she had surely not meant it. It was The Other’s spell, twisting her mind and her memories. 

But had her faith in him been stronger, surely she would not have fallen to the spell’s influence so quickly, counters the other half of his mind. 

Yes, but had he not quailed in the desert for a shamefully long time before coming to her rescue? Surely he cannot fault her for her misgivings, and her lack of faith, comes the rejoinder.

He is unworthy of her. She had trusted him, as much as she was able, and he had betrayed her, leaving her at a time when surely she needed him most- 

“It matters _not,”_ he says sharply, out loud, into the silence. Her feelings for him – such as they were- are entirely irrelevant and no longer his concern. Even if they had cared for each other, why give his enemies another way to hurt him? Why provide them with a conveniently weak, mortal target for them to set their claws into?

No, it will not do. He cannot allow his ‘arrangement’ with her to make him _soft,_ for her _feelings_ to change him  the way they had Thor. He is a god, above such pettiness, and right now he must gird himself against his enemies. ‘Relationships’ – and in his mind he sneers the word- do not factor into that. Weakness is not permitted.

_ Is it not a weakness, to love? _

_ Yes. _

_ Besides_,  he reminds himself yet again, _she will be safer in my absence._ Loki nods to himself and raises the bottle to his lips again. The edges of his pain are finally dulling, just a little, but he craves more relief. Another deep drought from the bottle is warranted, most definitely.

No, he had not wanted nor needed a ‘relationship’. If Jane had thought otherwise, well…that was _her_ error. Not his. He had never claimed otherwise, had he?

After all that he has suffered, he does not trust _any_ ‘relationship’ to bring him any measure of reward. An ‘arrangement’, on the other hand, that had suited his purpose at the time. The more fool he, not to realize the effect that even an ‘arrangement’ would have on him. That had been bad enough. But a relationship? 

No, every person he has ever trusted, from his so-called comrades in arms, to Thor, Frigga, Odin…Loki shakes his head and drains the third bottle. No, no accursed _relationships_ , by Yggdrasil. 

Allowing someone to get close, to _soften_ him…surely that will only lead to pain and to betrayal, as it always has.

_ Betrayal.  _ Yes,  surely Jane eventually would have sided with her mortal friends and allies. All and sundry _hate_ him, despite his efforts and schemes to save as many of their ungrateful lives as he could. Their loathing is the sole payment he has accrued for all the amends he has tried to make.

No, this ending is far better for Jane and himself in all possible ways. She need not fear attack from Thanos or his agents now, nor will the other mortals look on her as a turncoat. And Loki need not abase himself before such childlike creatures and beg their petty forgiveness, and make of himself a thing of ridicule before all Asgardians.

“Yes,” he says aloud, his voice echoing slightly in the empty room. “Better for her, and better for _me_.” He celebrates this with a fourth bottle of mead.

By the time he has imbibed half the contents of that vessel, his thoughts are hazy, almost pleasantly so. Relieved, he climbs up onto his bed, sprawling across the coverlet in full armour and boots, and stares at the ceiling, not fighting as familiar images swirl behind his half-closed eyes-

Brown eyes. Brown hair touched with gold. The creamy pallor of her skin, the slenderness of her limbs. The curve of her smile.

Yes, as a general rule he enjoys bringing women pleasure – it is one of the few things that has remained a source of pride for Loki, from when he was the less-than-favoured younger son right up until the present moment - but still, it had been different with _her_. He’d felt like he could somehow actually make someone in Yggdrasil _happy_. 

Pleasing her had been easy and enjoyable. He had come to be able to recognize the precise moment he’d driven her utterly mindless with sensation, and he remembers well the way her cries of pleasure had always become incoherent, nearly animalistic.

He remembers lying between her hot, damp thighs, lingering to savour her fragrance, coaxing her body with lips and tongue and fingers to produce more sweetness for him.

And then, burying himself to the brim in her- His hands clench and he feels the blood start up in his loins at these mental images.

But then the mead-induced haze clears enough for him to remember that such is _over_ , and he throws an arm over his eyes with a low, pained groan.

Loki does not understand why _she_ of all women should haunt him so. He’s coupled with far more beautiful women, more sexually-skilled women, more deliciously brazen and wanton women. Still, few among them had dared to ever bind and dominate him the way she had, rare as that had been even with her-

He struggles to push these maddening thoughts away. 

_ You could return to her. _

No. He cannot afford to weaken his resolve. To weaken himself yet further, and for what?

He curses and pushes the bottle away from him. It rolls to the floor, landing on the mess of silken bedclothes he ripped off the mattress earlier, sloshing golden mead across both them and smooth stone flooring. He struggles to remind himself of all that he had found objectionable about Jane mere moments ago.

Yes, she may have been unique among women in her own particular way, but she had also dared to name him _monster_ , unlike any of those prior women-

But the mead has not yet quelled the other, argumentative voice in his head, the one which seems determined to undo all that he has wrought thus far: _Have_ you _not done similar?_ it whispers. 

That is true, and even he must reluctantly acknowledge it. He had experienced exactly the same spell at the hands of The Other – Thanos’ last attempt to get him to yield, before thrusting him under the snakes and their acid, that is – and Loki’s already bitter memories had twisted and rotted into new, horrible shapes.

The effects of that spell had remained with Loki for a long time afterwards. Even as he had been preparing to lead ‘his’ Chitauri army against Midgard, occasional hallucinations and false memories would assail him.

Even in his current daze he can clearly recollect his argument with Thor, on the mountain while the ravens – Odin’s? Loki has wondered oftentimes since then – had flown squawking by. He knows he accused Thor of _tossing him_ into an abyss.

Yet he also knows such was only true in the poisoned, inserted memory. No, in reality it was _himself_ who chose to let go, to fall. He had known this even while confronting Thor, but so great had his pain been in that moment, that the false echo had risen into his mind and he had blurted it out before thinking.

And now, alone and imprisoned here, the unwelcome truth rushes up to meet him – it was that choice, _his_ choice, which had led him to this moment. He had let go, had chosen to fall from the Asbru Bridge rather than face Odin, Thor, Asgard. Which had led him to encounter Thanos. And then to carry out the attack on Midgard. And then to Jane. 

And to losing her. Even if the latter was for the best, it still carries its pain.

Much as he would prefer to blame falling from the Bridge (and all that came after), on another, he has only himself to hold accountable.

That one misguided decision has cost him everything. He has lost everything.

_ You  _ lost _her. You lost Jane._

_ No, _ he argues, still resistant. _I_ pushed _her away. For both our sakes._

_ She was right to doubt me, _ he reminds the side of himself that would apparently have him return to her. _I very nearly gave in to cowardice, left her to suffer and die agonizingly slowly in The Other’s prison. Surely she deserves better than one who would even for a moment think of allowing that to happen._

He does not wish her to pay for _his_ poor choices. He does not believe she chose to soften him, and she truly had not deserved to be tortured for it.

Yes, he has caused her significant pain, he is sure, abandoning her the way he has, but Loki tells himself that he is being cruel to be kind. Surely, given time, she will understand and accept why he has done this. Even if the thought of her with another man causes an ache to flare through his chest, the sting enough to drive him to retrieve the bottle from the floor and swallow the paltry dregs that remain, before opening yet another bottle. _Pathetic,_ he snarls at himself again. Has he not already decided she is a danger to him?

But the mead continues to do nothing to silence the accusing voices in his head that are so ready to fly to the mortal’s defense. _Was it really necessary to_ abandon _her? Surely she would be better defended if you were there to watch over her-_

_ Too tempting, _ he counters, grimacing at the thought. Not only would his presence, even cloaked, likely lead Thanos’ agents directly to Jane again, but to be in such close proximity, yet unable to go to her…surely such would lessen his resolve to stay away from her. Like a man addicted to drink, trying to wean himself from the bottle- Loki grimaces again, looking at the empty one in his own hand. The irony of the comparison is not lost on him.

No, ending things between them is for the best. He has done what he can to see to her safety, and now it is best to keep away. _Far_ away. With luck, Thanos will believe that Loki no longer cares for Jane – otherwise, why would Loki leave her apparently defenseless? – and Jane will no longer be used as a weapon or bait. No longer will Thanos have a way to manipulate Loki into stealing the Tesseract back for him, as The Other’s words had suggested.

Not only is this the _only_ way Loki’s plan will work, but it is best for all concerned.

And Loki need no longer live with the guilt of Jane suffering on his behalf. Nor have to worry about what other unwanted effects she might have on him.

As he finishes the current bottle, the mead finally clouds his thoughts still further, rendering all into a daze. At first it is a relief. But soon enough his mood darkens again, images and thoughts of Jane still flitting unbidden through his mind.

_ I picked you, you moron. Don’t make me regret it.  _

He shies away from that memory of her voice, but where he ends up in his thoughts is no better: The way her brows came together when she was thinking deeply, or frowning. Her habit of covering her mouth with her hand whenever she laughed loudly.

Another unwelcome twist of his thoughts, and now he remembers the curve of her breast. The slim column of her throat. The soft rise of her belly. The sweet perfume of her lust. 

The way every muscle in her body had tightened when she climaxed-

His traitorous body responds to those images, and he curses himself viciously.

Is this to be his _true_ punishment? Imprisoned here, among the things and people he knows he no longer belongs to, that is bad enough. But even worse, to spend every waking moment (and no doubt many sleeping moments as well) thinking of her, wanting her, _needing_ her warmth…and yet knowing that if he returns to her, she may _die_ because of him. Knowing that she and her love are his weakness.  

Depression settles over him, a stifling grey blanket that entangles him from thought to limb.

Yes, he has lost everything, even the one thing he had finally managed to _win_ from Thor – Jane Foster of Midgard. Won it, and yet the consequences had been dire.

Loki is without friends, without family, without a lover (even if he wanted one, which right now seems a foolish notion indeed)…in all the vast entirety of Yggdrasil, he has nothing and no-one, and he is nothing more than a pawn to powerful, cruel entities like Odin and Thanos. 

All of whom wish him to suffer. 

The weight of this realization drags on him, pulling him down into misery without foreseeable end.

There is nothing, absolutely nothing left for him except his false family, assuming he even dares try to reconcile with them…no, the mere thought of capitulating to Odin makes Loki nauseous. 

Truly, allowing himself to care for Jane has softened him, if he is even _entertaining_ the idea of giving up his rightful anger, and allowing himself to forgive those who have lied to him all his life. 

A tear burns its slow meandering way down his cheek, and he hurls the bottle away with a curse to smash against the far wall.

Yes, he is well and truly alone.

*~*~*

As far as Jane can tell from listening to Darcy’s side of the conversation, Fury wants her to come in tomorrow morning. That they’ll be flying in someone to help her, but he won’t be able to be there tonight.

“Fine,” Darcy agrees. “Yes, I’ll stay with her. Yes, you can reach us again at this number. Yeah, OK.” She hangs up. “Fury’ll send someone to get us tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I’m staying over, and you’re going to try to sleep, Jane. No arguments.”

Jane just nods. She’s too tired to argue. And who knows, maybe having Darcy around will help.

In the end, it doesn’t really. They watch a little TV though Jane finds her attention is wandering so much she’s not sure why she’s bothering. 

Then she changes into a worn tee-shirt and some old jogging pants, brushes her teeth, and climbs into bed. 

She manages to fall asleep – she is, after all, exhausted – but the nightmares soon crowd into her mind. Loki, in his dark suit, doing unspeakable things to her with one of his small knives. Loki in his golden armour, firing at her from some kind of flying device as she runs panicked through the streets of  New York. 

Loki, telling her what they had was worthless, that _she_ is worthless, and that they are better off ending things-

That’s when she jerks awake, and she soon resolves not to sleep any longer. Of course Darcy tries to convince her otherwise, so Jane promises to lie down and close her eyes, but that’s it. Sleeping is done for tonight.

The next morning finds them sitting Jane’s kitchen drinking lukewarm coffee and eating Eggo waffles. Actually, Darcy is eating, Jane is just picking at hers. Finally at around  9:30am, Darcy’s phone rings again. She answers, nods, and says “OK, we’re coming.” She hangs up. “OK, there’s a SHIELD car waiting downstairs for us.”

Jane nods and takes a deep breath, wrapping a scarf around her neck to hide the damned necklace. It reminds her for a moment of how she once used a scarf to hide a certain bite-mark- _No._ As Darcy had said earlier, one problem at a time.

As they walk down the stairs, Jane hopes that this isn’t a really bad idea. She doesn’t exactly count SHIELD among her friends, among the people she trusts. And yet now she’s leaning on them, of all people, for support? 

On the other hand…who’s left? Erik is angry with her, Darcy by her own admission doesn’t really have the tools to help, there’s no point even considering her family, and of course Loki-

_ No. Don’t go there. _

When they walk out the door Jane almost expects to see a fleet of black vans, just like the time they took her in to interrogate her about Loki, but this time there’s only a single car (though it’s also black), and leaning against the passenger door with his arms folded is a familiar figure.

Agent Phil Coulson.

Jane stops in her tracks, trying not to gape at him, but it’s difficult. Even after hearing Loki say Coulson was alive (and Fury not denying it, to Jane’s memory), he’s still the _last_ person Jane expected to see.

“Doctor Foster, Miss Lewis,” he greets them with his usual gravity, though the side of his mouth lifts in a half-smile. “Which one of you would like to ride shotgun?” 

Jane shrugs, suddenly very uncomfortable. She is – had been – sexually involved with the person who stabbed Coulson and very nearly killed him, hadn’t she?

Darcy is uncharacteristically quiet for once, so when Coulson opens the passenger door, Jane shrugs again and slides into the seat. She waits, gaze bent on her hands as Coulson closes the door gently. Then there’s the sounds of a door in back and the door next to her on the driver’s side opening and closing, and the car starts. Jane still doesn’t raise her eyes though.

“Doctor Foster,” Coulson adds, his voice so kind it nearly undoes Jane all over again, “I heard about what happened to you. I’m so very sorry.”

Jane nods slowly. “And I’m sorry that I was…involved with the entity that hurt you.” she answers, finally daring to look over at him. 

Coulson smirks slightly. “No apology needed, Doctor. At least not from you. Besides, I’m still here. So in my book, no harm, no foul.”

Jane, cheered a bit by his expression, shakes her head. “I still can’t believe Fury told the Avengers that you _died_ -“

Coulson shakes his own head and gets the car moving. “Actually, to be fair, that was all my idea. So we can’t really pin it on the Director. Blame me.”

Jane blinks. “ _Your_ idea?” Darcy asks behind them, before Jane does. 

“Yes,” Coulson explains, “The Avengers needed something to rally around, something to bring them together as a team. I’m probably the one person they all knew at least a little – well, with the exception of Dr. Banner.”

He smiles a little ruefully. “I’m not proud of it, of course, but I’m fairly convinced  New York would not be standing now if we hadn’t done what it took to get them to wake up and work together. Maybe the entire planet would’ve fallen, or at least been in jeopardy before they decided to put their differences aside and stand together.”

“The ends justify the means?” Jane asks. Looked at that way, she supposes she can’t blame him much at all. No more, she supposes, than she can blame Loki for doing what he thought necessary to save the _universe_ -

_ No. No  _ Loki. _Enough of that._

Coulson shrugs, looking faintly apologetic. “Sometimes, Doctor. This time, yes.”

He takes the road leading out of Puente Antiguo. “And I have one other thing to apologize for – I’m taking you back to Base 10-594, the one you were originally… _questioned_ at.”

Jane definitely has mixed feelings about that – not only was she interrogated there, but she also met with Tony Stark there. It feels like that conversation with Tony happened centuries ago, in another life. One that doesn’t belong to her anymore. 

_ The Einstein-Rosen bridge. _ But she doesn’t want to think about _that_ right now, either. The promise of other worlds, other peoples, hasn’t exactly panned out, now has it?

“Not the Helicarrier?” she asks. 

“No, it’s off on a mission. In general, it’s not really considered a place for civilians,” Coulson explains. He glances in the rearview mirror at Darcy, looking apologetic still. “In any case, the Director thought we’d be better off bringing help to the base nearest to you, and it is the closest one.”

“OK,” Jane agrees with another shrug. Does it really matter? 

“I think you’ll like Doc Allen,” Coulson continues. “A lot of agents have been put through the wringer over the years, and he’s been invaluable in helping them get their heads straight again. I saw him too, after…after Loki tried to put me down. It’s S.O.P.,” he clarifies.

“OK,” Jane says again. Not like she has much choice, right? She can’t go on like this, seeing hallucinations of Loki every time she turns around. The thought makes her shudder and wrap her arms around herself.

Once they finally arrive at the base, Coulson takes them into the main building again and leads them to an elevator in a new area Jane hasn’t been to before. “Sorry, Miss Lewis, but I have to take it from here,” Coulson says firmly, turning to her. “You don’t have clearance to be upstairs.” He pauses. “Yet.”

Darcy sighs and rolls her eyes. “I figured,” she says sourly. “I brought my iPod.” She plucks it from her pocket and holds it up. “Unless you plan to ‘borrow’ it again,” she snarks, eyes narrowing at him. Jane wonders if Darcy will ever forgive Coulson for that.

Coulson smirks ever-so-slightly again. “Not at the moment, Miss Lewis. You can wait in the lounge. The coffee machine is actually working this time.”

“Sweet!” Darcy enthuses, turning and leaving them both.

Coulson presses the button for the elevator. In response to Jane’s questioning look, he reveals: “The Director had us bring Miss Lewis here after she led us to the Chitauri attack site in the desert – the one Loki asked her to tell us about. Coffee machine was broken.”

Jane nods. “Yeah, Darcy’s kind of addicted to the stuff.”

“Not just her,” Coulson says, giving Jane an actual smile this time. The elevator doors swish open and they get in, and the agent presses the button for the top floor. 

Every mention of Loki sends a dull ache through her, but she supposes she’ll have to get used to that. She doubts that people are going to stop talking about him, not as long as Thanos is still out there and still a threat.

“You must think I am the biggest idiot,” she finds herself blurting out to Coulson as the elevator slowly rises.  

He blinks at her, clearly waiting for her to explain.

“Being involved with someone like Loki. Someone who so obviously is bad news.” Her face feels red, but there’s no point ignoring the elephant in the room anymore.

Coulson turns to face the doors, shrugging. “In my rather limited experience, Doctor, _everybody_ ’s an idiot when it comes to relationships. If you didn’t go into each one naïve, ready to trust, well…I don’t know if anyone would ever get together.”

Jane smiles and chuckles despite herself. “It doesn’t sound so bad when you put it that way.”

Coulson gives her another lopsided smile. “Always happy to help, Doc.”

When the elevator doors swish open, the two of them emerge into a large atrium. The ceiling is made up entirely of glass panels, filling the area with bright sunlight that makes Jane’s eyes prickle for a few seconds. She rubs at them, then spots two figures on the far side of the atrium engaged in conversation – Fury and Erik.

As Coulson and Jane walk towards them, she can hear them all too clearly: “I don’t understand why you didn’t offer her help right after-“ Erik is saying.

“I _did_ ,” Fury interrupts. “She refused. I was planning to have her come in later this week for a debrief, so I figured I’d ask again then. I certainly didn’t expect her punk-ass god of a boyfriend to take off-” 

“Well, _I_ did,” grouses Erik.

As they get nearer, Coulson clears his throat theatrically and both men fall silent, turning towards them.

“Doctor Foster,” Fury says. “Doc Allen will be with you in a few minutes.”

“It’s OK,” Jane replies, her voice sounding small to her ears. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to be.” She tries not to sound too bitter. 

“I can take her to his office,” Erik offers. 

Fury nods. “Fine. Agent Coulson? We have some strategy to discuss.”

Coulson nods. “If you’ll excuse me, Doctors,” he nods again to Jane and Erik, and the two SHIELD agents head back to the elevator, leaving her alone with him.

Jane bites her lip and looks at the floor. 

“Come on Jane, it’s this way.” He leads her down a side hallway, stopping in front of a door. There are a couple chairs beside it, and he lowers himself into one. 

Jane sits next to him, but she still can’t look at him. She feels so many things – shame, embarrassment, anger, sadness – that she feels she can’t process them all.

A heavy silence hangs between them. It’s so quiet that Jane can almost hear the blood rushing through her own veins, but finally Erik speaks. “Jane, you don’t always have to be so strong, you know. You were kidnapped and tortured by aliens, never mind being tricked by an evil god. It’s not a weakness to need help after something like that.”

Just like that, the floodgates open once again. A moment later Jane is a little surprised to find Erik has put his arms around her. She _just_ manages not to sob, but the tears keep flowing down her cheeks, wetting his shirt. 

It reminds her vividly also of him holding her this way after Dad died.

“Jane,” Erik soothes, “Jane, Jane. I can imagine how badly you’re hurting now, but-“

“Please, do _not_ say ‘I told you so’, Erik,” Jane grumbles, her anger crowding out her sadness for the moment as she pushes herself away from Erik. She does not need or want his pity. She scrabbles in the pocket of her jeans for a Kleenex, though Erik produces one from somewhere and hands it to her first.

“I wasn’t going to say that,” he contradicts, though his tone is gentle. “But you’re so much better off without him. Surely you can see tha-“

“I really don’t want to talk about Loki right now, OK? I get that you’re trying to help, but-“ Jane shakes her head and dabs at the tear tracks on her face. “I need to work through all the crap The Other put in my head before I try to deal with…anything else. Which includes a certain asshole of a Norse god.”

Erik sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “No, you’re right Jane, I’m sorry. It was bad enough being Loki’s slave; I just can’t _imagine_ what it was like to date him.” He’s obviously going for humour, trying to lighten the mood, but Jane is only able to manage a small smile, though it feels hesitant and false on her lips.

He takes her hand gently and squeezes it. “And now I’ll stop talking about him, I promise.” He smiles and Jane smiles back, a little more sincerely this time. At least they seem to be friends again.

The door next to them opens and a man steps out. He looks a lot younger than Jane expected, this person who Coulson credited as piecing so many SHIELD agents together. But then again, Jane’s never been good at guessing people’s ages. He has brown hair, small gold wire-rimmed glasses, and blue eyes. “You must be Dr. Foster. And hello Erik, good to see you. How are things?”

“I’m good, Doc,” Erik answers, rising to his feet and shaking hands with the…actually, Jane doesn’t know what ‘Doc Allen’ even is. A psychologist? Psychiatrist? He could be an astrologer, for all she knows. 

“Glad to hear it,” says Allen. “Shall we begin, Dr. Foster?” 

Jane nods and gets to her feet, shaking his extended hand, which is large and warm. The office isn’t what she expected, either. There’s a desk on the far wall, African art on the walls, and two plush chairs facing each other. 

“Do you have any questions for me before we begin?” he asks after closing the door behind her and settling himself in one of the chairs. He motions her to the other chair.

“Um, yes,” Jane says, abruptly nervous. She’s never been to a therapist before. Let alone one working for a shadowy government organization.

“First, I guess I want to know how much Fury will hear about…what we discuss.”

The doctor nods. “An excellent question. As you probably know, normally all doctor-client conversations are confidential. However, as the Director, Fury obviously needs to know if his agents are psychologically healthy enough to go back on duty. So that is essentially all I tell him. The exact details of the things discussed here never leave this room; all I tell him in my reports is whether the person undergoing treatment is, in my opinion, ready to return to active duty or not. As you are a civilian, though, I expect he will probably not even require _that_.” He smiles kindly at her.

“Sounds reasonable,” Jane agrees. “How often will I be seeing you? Or does Fury decide that?”

He shakes his head. “That is entirely up to what you and I decide. Perhaps you’ll want to see me more often in the next few weeks or more, and then as you feel more in control, we’ll meet less often. There’s no prescribed way to do this. Whatever you need, I will find the time to see you. And SHIELD is footing the bill, in case you were wondering.”

She hadn’t actually thought that far ahead, but she’s fine with that. They practically gave her a complex just interrogating her about Loki and throwing her in that damned cell. 

She nods. “Did you help Erik?” she asks, curious. 

The doctor smiles. “Sorry, but I’m afraid that’s confidential.”

Jane nods again, twisting the Kleenex in her hands. “Of course, right.” She furrows her brow, but can’t really think of anything else to ask. “I’ve never been to therapy before. Where do we begin?”

Doctor Allen folds his hands in front of him. “Tell me about Jane Foster.”

*~*~*

It is three full days – as far as he can tell, given how much mead he has imbibed over that period - before anyone comes to see him. 

Three days. As he had expected,  it is the small things that stalk him, pouncing upon him just when he begins to think that he has managed to escape his memories of her, of Jane. Though it is not as though he has much else to think about, does he?

Her smile. Her eyes. Her intense _focus_ when trying to work out something to do with her Bifröst-to-be- 

He shakes his head, as if that will somehow dash the thoughts of her from his brain.

He had run out of mead on the second day, at which point he’d resorted to casting an illusion of himself in his rooms, in case of visitors, and then teleporting himself, cloaked of course, to the palace’s huge spirits storage room. For whatever reason – perhaps Thor and Frigga’s influence - Odin had not attempted to contain Loki’s magic this time. Loki had allowed himself to feel some tiny measure of gratitude for this as he uncorked the first of his ill-gotten goods. 

The alcohol did not really make things easier, did not cloud his thoughts as much as he would like, but it was something else to do besides flip disinterestedly through old books or to think of _her_. 

Three days. Three accursed days of fighting himself, when he was not trying and failing at drinking himself into a stupor. Of vacillating between anger at Jane for what she has done to him (intentionally or not), guilt at what he has put her through, and a seemingly bottomless, aching desire to return to her.

In fact, at this precise moment, he is feeling about two parts guilt and one part ache, and his silent tears won’t stop, though he tries his utmost to curtail them. He has nothing and no one, there’s nothing in all the universe that is right, and no one he can trust-

The door to his chambers now opens with only a soft warning knock. Loki curls over on his side on the bed, barely having the time to swipe the telltale moisture from his face before his visitor enters.

He curses and then braces himself, mentally and physically. It could be Thor, or worse, Odin.

In fact, it is his mother. _Former_ mother, rather.

“My son,” Frigga says gently, closing the door behind her.

Loki scoffs and rolls up, sitting on the edge of the mattress with his back to her, still trying to dry the wetness from his cheeks. Shameful, to be caught doing something so unmanly. How the other warriors would ridicule him if they knew! Truly, accepting comfort and affection from Jane has brought him low.

“I am _not_ your son, woman,” he rasps. It’s nearly a reflex by now, his hate.

Frigga glides into his field of vision, sitting on the bed beside him though her expression does not change when Loki shifts himself away, putting distance between them on the bed. “Not by blood,” she acquiesces quietly, “that is true. But in every other way, you are. I had the raising of you. And I never loved you any less, even knowing your true heritage.”

“You lied to me,” Loki snarls at her, his agitation finally getting the better of him, driving him to rise to his feet and pace. He kicks spent bottles of mead and wine out of his way as he goes.

Frigga sighs, sadness weighing her next words. “I did, it is true. I will not deny it. I did not think it important,” she admits.

He turns and stares at her, his mouth drawn tight. 

“Your father thought it best to raise you as Asgardian. And I agreed…at the time.” She shrugs, though her brow creases. “You are my son, no matter the circumstances of your birth. They are entirely irrelevant to me, and thus I did not see the need to-“

“Not _relevant_?” Loki snarls disbelievingly, “You stood by while Odin kidnapped me, while he raised me as a prince, yet without telling me I was being groomed to rule that race of _monsters_. You and Odin allowed me to grow up as an outcast, without ever telling me there was a reason for it!” His voice rises to a shout on the last words.

Frigga holds her hand out to him, her expression still despondent. “Yes,” she agrees once more. “I did stand by. But only because, even once I started to believe it was better that you knew, I was not certain when or how to tell you. And as you got older, the more complicated things became-“

Loki’s teeth grate at her words. Anything would have been better than what he has experienced. _Anything_. “I should have been told. I should have _known_. Things would have been better.”

“Perhaps you are right, Loki. Perhaps I should not have allowed your father to convince me otherwise. Perhaps it was foolish of me to wait for the ‘perfect’ time to inform you. But it is done, it cannot be changed, and you must believe that I only ever had the best and most loving of intentions towards you-“

“My _father_ ,” Loki sneers the word. He smiles now, but it’s cruel and malicious. “He sets the lie in motion and forces you to maintain it. And then when the terrible secret is finally discovered by me, he finds a way to escape into the Odin-Sleep, leaving _you_ to deal with the aftermath. Truly, Odin is as fine a husband as he is a father.” He laughs sarcastically, mirthlessly, before his expression hardens again. “But that does not mean I forgive you.”

Frigga shakes her head, sighing once more. “I did not come here to beg your forgiveness, Loki. I can only hope that such will come with time.”

“No?”

“No, I came because I wished to learn more about this mortal woman who first Thor, and now you, have become so enamoured with.”

Loki’s shoulders tighten as he turns away again. “That is over. There is nothing to speak about, even if it was any concern of yours. Which it is not. _Mother_ ,” he adds caustically.  

Jane Foster of Midgard is the last thing he wants to discuss with _anyone_. Besides the pain and guilt that will stir up, there is a distinct possibility that Thanos’ spies could be anywhere, even in this vaunted palace, and if he dares to admit to anyone how she has affected him, how her kidnapping and torture weighs on him…no. 

Much as he blames her for how she has changed him, she has suffered enough for that already. And if Thanos’ spies come to believe Loki is grieving for lack of her, surely they will try to exploit that, to the detriment of all.

But Frigga is speaking again. “You came back to Asgard to beg your brother for help saving her. You raced to take on an enemy which, as I recall from your own tales, subjected you to many horrors. Clearly, this mortal is important to you. I do not then understand why you have left her alone and undefended back on Midgard.”

“She’s nothing to me,” Loki contradicts his un-mother, though he does not meet her questioning gaze.

“Liesmith many call you, but I am your mother, and you cannot lie about such matters to _me_ ,” Frigga counters, a note of command Loki remembers well from his childhood now entering her voice. She rises to her feet but does not approach where he stands, and Loki looks out the windows and onto the room’s terrace rather than at her, lest he betray any unwanted emotion.

“I know the mortal was given a choice between you and Thor. And she chose _you_ -“

It echoes once more in his head: _I picked you, you moron. Don’t make me regret it._

-“and also that you urged Thor to keep your association with her a secret. That you did not wish your enemies, or even other mortals, to know of it. You wanted to protect her. Your most recent actions have also been in that vein.” Frigga takes a few steps towards Loki. “So again, tell me, why have you left her now _un_ protected?”

He says nothing, and Frigga takes another step in his direction. “Are you going to continue to pretend that you care not for her?”

Loki bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood, and finally turns to face her, eyes narrowed and glittering. “Tell me, lady, why you are even here bothering to speak with me? Not only am I not your son by blood, but I tried to kill your _true_ son. I sent the Destroyer after him, and I later dropped him in a Midgardian cage from a great height in the sky, seeking to end him. Does such not anger you?”

Frigga’s voice gentles again as she reaches towards him once more. “You have done evil, there is no disputing that,” she agrees softly. “But I do not believe you _are_ evil. You were confused and in deep pain.” She pauses. “And you still _are_.”

Loki laughs at that, loud, long and bitterly. Of course he is. He will ever be. And it does not make him any more likely to forgive those who forced his feet onto this path.

“If I was so _confused_ ,” he hisses at her, stepping closer this time to tower over her, “why then did you offer me the throne of Asgard? Why tease me with something I would never be able to possess? The best of intentions, indeed, _Mother_.”

“Loki,” she protests softly. “Must you see everything and everyone around you as meaning you harm? You had just found out you were not ours by blood. I had thought only to show how much I – our _family_ – valued you, by giving you an opportunity to lead. To care for our people. I did it to show our trust in you, because your heritage is not relevant. You _are_ my son.” She stops, her hand grasping at his elbow. “And given the choice, I would do such again.”

“Yes, I am a true son of Asgard,” Loki agrees spitefully, twisting his arm away and moving out of her reach once more. “According to Odin, such means I must allow myself to be banished from Asgard, to become ruler over those _animals_. No,” he shakes his head,” I will tell you what a true son of Asgard does. _Destroy_ the Jotuns. Kill their leader – my true father – and wipe out their entire race so they will never again threaten us, monsters that they are.”

His voice drops to a growl. “But no, that was not sufficient. Yes, he loves me well, does the All-Father. Perhaps it _burned_ him, that I had been on the verge of accomplishing something which he and his favoured son could not?”

Frigga exhales slowly. “My son, always so clever at leading others astray with words. The mortal, Loki. Jane Foster. Do you not fear for her safety, now that you are so far distant from her?”

Loki squeezes his hands into fists so tight his nails nearly breach his own skin, almost goaded into the unthinkable – striking Frigga – but he takes a deep breath and reaches for the wellspring of calm inside him. The same one he tapped into to help himself extricate Jane from The Other’s foul clutches, much as he would prefer to recall _anything_ else right now.

Frigga can pester him all she wishes, but she will hear no truth from his lips on this topic. “Her safety is no longer my burden. But even if it _was_ , distance between her and me is best for all concerned.” He keeps his tone indifferent and aloof.

But Frigga’s voice when she replies is flatly unimpressed. “Not only are you lying to both yourself and to me, my son, but you are shirking your responsibilities.”

“ _What_ responsibilities?” he laughs but there’s no hiding the bitter edge, as he whirls to face her.

He cannot intimidate her, however; she is the one with the hard gaze now. “You _know_ , Loki.” Then her face and tone soften once more. She has ever found it difficult to stay angry at him, even after the worst of his childhood pranks. “If it is Thanos that you fear, that is leading you to do this, rest assured there are those among your family who stand ready to help you. Help protect you and Jane Foster _both_.” 

He shakes his head. _Lies._ He can recognize one when he hears one. They may help, but only, he is sure, after he admits the error of his ways and goes crawling on his knees to beg Odin and Thor for forgiveness, in front of all of Asgard. 

No. Not even to guarantee Jane’s safety. The spells he left behind him on Midgard will serve.

Frigga, unaware of his resolve, is still speaking: “You could bring her to Asgard for the duration. Until this Thanos is defeated. Surely that would be best for both-“

The utter heresy of the idea of bringing Jane to the place where his disgrace began is enough to make him nauseous. He turns back to glare out the window, his boots scraping harshly on the stone floor. “Get out,” he snarls. There are limits to what evils he will commit – forcing unwilling women to lie with him is one, and striking women who are not warriors is another – but he fears he will come close to doing the latter if Frigga stays.

“Loki-“ she tries.

“GET OUT!” he roars loudly enough to strain his vocal chords. His magic, seething to the surface, snatches several objects from his desk and bookshelves, hurling them to smash against walls.

Frigga, to her credit, does not even flinch, though some of the books and objects pass close enough to blow back stray strands of her hair. “Very well, Loki,” she agrees quietly. Without another word, she turns and leaves the room. 

The echo of the door closing seems to go on forever, and Loki puts both hands to his face, as if he can somehow blot out everything merely by covering his eyes. If only his problems were so easily dealt with.

Because he _wants_ to forgive Frigga, in truth. He is so tired of being alone, of being the outsider. Even when he was a child, she had always been the one to show him the most acceptance and support. Even during those times when he surely did not deserve such from her.

But he knows that he cannot. Forgive one, and all the others will no doubt expect him to relinquish his resentment and anger. His _legitimate_ resentment and anger. 

No, until Thor and Odin come to beg _him_ for forgiveness, Frigga must also be counted among his enemies.

He collapses back onto the bed, feeling suffocated by the weight of everything that has and is happening to him.

*~*~*

After her initial hesitation at answering such a broad opening question, it had all spilled out of her. Her relationship with Loki, her doubts, what had happened to her at the hands of The Other, Loki rescuing and then dumping her, and finally her current nightmares and hallucinations.

She figures she’s probably gone through enough Kleenex to keep the company in business for a year during that whole recitation.

Once Jane finishes her tale, she takes a deep breath and asks “So what do I do now?”

The doctor reaches for a pad on his desk. “I think getting a decent rest is an important first step,” he says as he scribbles something on the pad. 

“So you’re a psychiatrist,” Jane says. One mystery solved. 

But he shakes his head. “No, I’m a psychologist. Normally we can’t prescribe, but I took a two-year course at the D.O.D. – Department of Defense, that is – so that I could.” He rips off the sheet and hands it to her. “I’m going to start you on a low dose of Trazodone. Besides helping you sleep, it’s a drug that increases serotonin levels in the brain, which studies have shown helps people suffering from non-combat-related trauma. Which I’d say applies to your case.”

“OK,” Jane agrees. At this point she’ll do _anything_ to stop what’s happening to her.

“And I’d like you to start keeping a diary of sorts. Think of it as a homework assignment. I’d like you to record when the hallucinations happen, and what you were thinking just before, during, and after.”

Jane furrows her brow. “Um, OK?”

He smiles at her encouragingly. “Sometimes we are our own worst triggers. Trust me, even if it doesn’t make sense now, it may help quite a bit later.”

It’s not like Jane has much else to do, so she agrees once more. “When do I see you again?” she asks. Talking to a neutral third party, one that doesn’t have an official position on Loki, does make her feel better, she’s realizing. And it definitely feels nice to have someone in her corner for a change, someone who has no agenda other than helping her. Yes, there’s Darcy, but she’s also technically an employee, so that complicates things.

“How about tomorrow?” he suggests. “And here’s a number where you can reach me, any time day or night. At least for the immediate future.”

Jane takes that slip of paper too, shakes hands with him, and then walks slowly out of the office. 

Once in the hallway, she’s a little surprised to find Fury waiting for her, but she’s also glad. One problem is potentially solved, but she has several others to deal with, including one that’s currently wrapped around her neck.

“Well, Doctor?” Fury asks. “Did you find that helpful at all?”

Jane nods, for once not hackling even slightly at Fury’s presence. “Yes, I think so. Thank you. I do have another favour to ask of you, though.”

Fury nods and waits, arms folded behind his back, and Jane pulls her scarf away to expose the necklace. “This is –was - a gift from Loki. I don’t want it anymore, needless to say, but I can’t get it off. And believe me, I tried.”

Fury’s eyes narrow, but Jane’s not offended by the suspicion in his gaze. She has wondered the same thing – what spells Loki could have left on it. Spells to watch her, to control her, to hurt her? She doesn’t want to think about it, she just wants it _off_. It’s a reminder of him, and the thought of it against her skin makes her feel a little ill if she spends too much time dwelling on it.

In the end, she spends all of the rest of the morning and afternoon at the base, but nothing they do is able to get the necklace off. It’s a challenge from the start, given they have to protect her neck of course, but even once they figure that out (which takes at least two hours), that’s their only victory. There’s no apparent clasp or joint to pry into, trying to cut it only dulls every sharp edge they try, and even _very_ careful application of acid leaves not a trace of damage on the surface.

Frustrated as much as Jane, Fury declares defeat at last. “Just our luck, he made this out of the same apparently indestructible crap as his damned armour,” Fury mutters, his expression more sour than Jane has ever seen it. He wipes sweat from his forehead. “Give us some time to come up with some other approaches, alright? We’ll get his collar off your neck, I promise, Doctor.”

Jane nods uncomfortably, wrapping the scarf around herself again. His collar indeed. _For a pet he no longer wishes to keep._

_ Stop, _ she orders herself.

Coulson drives her and Darcy back to her apartment, but once the car pulls away, Jane just stands there, looking up at the building. She doesn’t really want to stay here anymore. It’s not just the memory of Loki dumping her in the living room, or the terrifying apparition she’d seen in the bathroom. No, it’s the knowledge that she bought this place for the purpose of being _with_ Loki. 

_ No, _ she argues half-heartedly with herself. _Didn’t I buy this place because I got tired of living in the trailer? It was past time, anyway. I was only supposed to be_ _in that damned tin can for a month at most. So it was high time I got an apartment, right?_

The argument, even if true, is utterly unconvincing. 

Jane turns to Darcy. “What say we go hang out on the roof of the lab?”

“If you want,” Darcy says amiably. “Oh, wait a sec – forgot something. Can I meet you there?”

“Sure,” Jane agrees. It’s only a few minutes’ walk, though she can’t help tensing up as she gets closer to the lab. She remembers all too clearly being snapped up into the air, helplessly watching everything fall away beneath her. Maybe she should’ve waited for Darcy-

“There you are!” says Darcy from behind her, startling Jane. _Speak of the devil_. “And _here_ you are!” Darcy announces, handing Jane her backpack and cell phone. 

Jane blinks, then remembers that she’d had both on her when she’d been kidnapped. She must’ve dropped them. She thanks Darcy and opens the backpack. Everything in there seems OK; it’s mostly notes anyway. The cell phone hasn’t fared so well; its screen is cracked and there’s a dent in the back. 

Jane wonders how far it fell, then decides that’s not a line of thinking she wants to follow right now. Instead, she follows Darcy to the lab.

The lab is just as they left it, but Jane doesn’t give the glass-walled room more than a cursory glance as she heads directly to the stairs leading up to the roof.

The two of them settle in, coaxing a small blaze into existence in their firepot as the sun sets and the night gets cooler. “Want to head to Izzy’s in a bit?” Darcy asks. “I’m starving. The SHIELD cafeteria _sucks_.”

Jane nods, reaching for her phone, figuring she may as well see if it works. 

That’s when her vision darkens for a second and a moment later Loki appears on the roof, standing across the fire from them, the light flickering across his snarling grin. 

Jane takes a deep breath and turns to Darcy. “He’s not standing there, is he?” Jane gestures at Loki.

It’s something she and Doc Allen discussed. Another coping strategy, called reality testing (though he admitted this isn’t usually how it goes). Before freaking out, if someone else is around, check to see if _they_ can see it, too.

Darcy looks and shakes her head. “No, Tall, Dark, and Has-His-Head-Up-His- _Ass_ gardian is not there.” She looks sympathetically at Jane. “Another one?”

By the time Jane glances back, Loki is gone. Which is good, because he’d been advancing on them menacingly. She shivers and wraps her arms around herself. “Yeah, but at least they’re happening less often.”

Darcy nods, and Jane goes back to checking her phone. It does turn on, much to her surprise, and she scrolls, astonished at the number of messages. From Erik, from Darcy…and from Tony Stark.

“Yeah, sorry,” Darcy says, watching what Jane is doing. “I must’ve left you at least twenty messages. I didn’t know where you were, and I was panicking because I didn’t know what you wanted me to do, what you wanted to take with us to Stark Tower.”

“I totally understand,” Jane answers, smiling sympathetically at Darcy and then continuing to scroll. There are _lots_ of messages from Tony Stark, too, but Jane doesn’t feel up to dealing with that either right now. She turns the phone off and stashes it in the front pocket of her backpack, leaning closer to the firepot and rubbing her cold hands together.

“Speaking of which,” Darcy adds after a short silence, “Stark offered me a place to stay in the Tower while we’re doing the research. You, too.” But Jane says nothing, staring into the blaze. Darcy hesitates, then goes on: “Did you want to go and look at their living quarters with me sometime this week? Maybe you’d prefer to stay there now-“

Jane shakes her head slowly, still looking into the flames. “I…can’t deal with all that right now, Darcy. Later, OK? I just…need to get my head on straight first.”

Darcy nods and wraps her sweater tighter around herself. “Sure, OK. Take as much time as you need. Stark was pretty clear on that.”

They sit awhile in companionable silence. In the end, Jane and Darcy wind up sleeping on the lab roof, after they fill her prescription and have dinner at Izzy’s. It’s not the first time Jane’s slept out here under the stars, and right now it just feels more comfortable. Even if it also reminds her of when Thor fell to Earth – the event which set everything else ultimately into motion.

Darcy is with her this time, though, which Jane is grateful for when another nightmare of Loki jolts her awake with a sobbing scream.

“Jane! Jane? It’s OK, you’re here at the lab with me, it’s  OK- ” Darcy says, hands gripping her arms until Jane is fully awake and aware.

Jane wipes cold sweat from her forehead with her sleeve, shivering, but a glance at her watch shows her that it’s  4:03am. She managed to sleep nearly five hours straight without dreams. _Thank God for the Trazodone._

Still, she’s only too happy to see Doc Allen again later that same morning.

The next few days pass in a blur. She’s settled into a kind of routine: see Doc Allen in the morning, talk to Fury to see if they have come up with any new ideas for getting the necklace off (short answer: no), and then spend the rest of the day at the lab with Darcy, and sometimes Erik. 

Jane only goes back to her apartment to get clean clothes and wash up, but never without Darcy, at least not for the first few days. Lunch and dinner are always elsewhere, at Izzy’s or Darcy’s, and Jane continues to sleep up on the lab roof, again usually with Darcy or occasionally Erik.

She’s also grateful that, except for the damned necklace, Loki has left no other things around for her to run into or to have to deal with (unlike, say, Donald). She continues to wear scarves daily, no matter the weather, so long as his chain remains around her throat.

Her daily therapy sessions have been both helpful and difficult, but also interesting. Allen had raised the dose of Trazodone slightly, but had also taught Jane some relaxation exercises to do when the hallucinations struck her during the day, or after waking from nightmares.

They’d also discovered a few triggers for the hallucinations, thanks to her ‘homework’ assignment – which is another of the reasons why she’s covering up Loki’s necklace – and overall, the intensity and frequency of both the hallucinations and nightmares seems to be fading.

But that doesn’t bring Jane as much relief as she would have hoped. She’s sure it’s not really all that healthy for her to be avoiding her apartment like this. 

Then there’s the other problem she’s trying to avoid: The Stark-Foster project. 

Not because of Tony. He’d left her countless messages during her imprisonment by The Other, and he’s called her at least three or four times a day since then, but each time Jane can’t bring herself to pick up.

No, the reason is that the idea of building a portal to other worlds just seems…totally _wrong_ to Jane now. She’s always dreamed of discovering and visiting other worlds, for as long as she can remember.

But ever since another world had found her, it had brought her nothing but pain. 

Thor and Loki – _especially_ Loki – in the end had turned out to be as screwed up as any human, regardless of whatever advances Asgardian society has made compared to Earth. And it seems like everything else out there is just as evil, if not worse, than anything on Earth.

Thanos and his Chitauri. The Other. Even the frost giants Thor had mentioned had attacked Earth long ago and tried to lay waste to everything, despite no provocation from humans that Jane is aware of.

So why go _looking_ for evil, why invite it down upon them? Hell, there's plenty of evil already down here on Earth.

She’d been so naïve...and paid the price.

Five days after Loki dumped her, Jane decides she’ll have to say _something_ to Tony, though. He’s tried to help her, and it isn’t right to give him the cold shoulder. 

But the idea of talking to him just makes her want to break out into a cold sweat, so in the end she calls not him, but Pepper’s office. And only once business hours are over and Jane is reasonably certain she won’t actually have to talk to a real person.

Jane leaves a message saying that she can’t handle working on the portal right now, that it hurts too much after what she’s been through. Then she hangs up. 

She lied; what she really wanted to say was “I’m done with all that, forever.” But with Darcy sitting right next to her while she made the call, Jane can’t bring herself to do that. 

Darcy is her employee, and no portal means no job for Darcy. Jane can’t and won’t do that to Darcy. She has few enough friends already, and it doesn’t make sense to Jane to stress out and potentially alienate the only person who seems to be the most in Jane’s corner these days.

Not that Erik isn’t trying, but…it’s complicated. He’s obviously thrilled that Loki is gone, and just as obviously trying to hide it and be considerate of Jane’s feelings, so talking to him now holds a tension that she’s never felt towards him before. 

It sucks. 

To his credit, Erik hasn’t said “I told you so” yet. But Jane feels like she’s hearing it behind everything he _does_ say. “I’m here to listen,” is the thing he says most frequently these days, and listen he has – Jane will grant him that – but it’s just not as comfortable as talking to Darcy. Or Doc Allen.

Now Jane is sitting in her usual spot up on the roof, alone while Darcy runs some errands. She sighs and cradles her coffee cup in her hands, staring up at the stars. Everything is upside-down. Not just her love life, _but everything_. The direction and purpose of her life has been utterly derailed by everything she’s been through.

It’s like a nightmare, but one she can’t wake up from. Actually, no, it’s like a _constant_ nightmare – nightmares about Loki when she sleeps, and then when she wakes up, it’s not over; there’s the ongoing daytime nightmare of what her life has become. 

Jane shakes her head and looks up at the stars again, picking out familiar constellations by sheer habit. Something she’d talked about with Doc Allen this morning comes back to her: abandonment. Her father had abandoned her through his death, her mother through estrangement, Erik through his anger and lack of support regarding Loki. And of course, both Thor and then Loki, each had left her in their own particular way.

Jane sighs and rubs her hand tiredly across her forehead. She and Allen had discussed the notion that she had developed the coping strategy of looking to the stars to escape feeling abandoned and alone…

Because the stars couldn’t abandon her. Stars are (mostly, barring the occasional supernova) unchanging, constant, always there.

But in the end their constancy hadn’t mattered. There had been no solution waiting out there in space for her. Just more of the same. More people for her to care about, who then only turned around and left her.

She’d said as much, tearfully, to Doc Allen, but he hadn’t offered any solutions. He never did, and though Jane knew full well why – the solution had to come from her, of course – knowing that didn’t make it any easier. 

This is one equation she doesn’t feel up to solving.

“Hey,” Darcy greets her as she climbs up onto the roof. “Knew I’d find you here.”

Jane chuckles humorlessly. “Yeah, guess I’m becoming predictable that way.”

Darcy settles herself into the other chair, the one Thor had once lain on beside Jane. Again, that memory brings Jane no comfort. That’s where this hell all started.

“I’ve been thinking, Jane,” Darcy says, her voice somehow both hesitant and firm as she breaks into Jane’s brooding. “You need to get out more. I know you like your routines, but seeing the doc in the morning, and then spending the rest of the day and night here or Izzy’s isn’t healthy. You need something else in your life. Something _fun_. Or at least, do something to reward yourself.”

“Like what?” Jane asks listlessly, draining the last of her coffee. She’s not all that interested in this conversation, but it’s not like she has anything better to do.

Darcy gestures vaguely. “I know you like to save money – and I know _why_ , believe me – but now we’ve got Stark funding us, right?”

Jane nods, unwilling to contradict her. Again, she’s not in the mood to defend her decision to abandon her bridge project for the foreseeable future. If not forever.

She scrabbles for a reply. “I don’t know, Darcy-“

But the other woman isn’t done. “When was the last time you treated yourself to, I don’t know, a haircut? Or a manicure? Or if that’s too much luxury for you, what about this: you keep talking about going to the gym, but I know for a fact that you’ve never actually gone.”

Jane sighs heavily. “You’re right, but…I just don’t feel up to any of those things.”

Darcy gets up and paces to the edge of the roof, looking down, then turns back to Jane. “I know. But I think that’s exactly why you _should_ do them. It’s settled; you’re going to my dance-aerobics class tomorrow afternoon with me. No arguments.”

Jane laughs uncomfortably. “You’re kidding, right? Me, with two left feet? Never mind I don’t know any of the moves, and I’ll stick out like a sore thumb-“

“Jane, I’ve taken so many different gym classes I’ve lost count by now, but trust me on one thing – _everyone_ is awkward when they start a new class. Nobody is going to care if you don’t get it the first few times. Hell, there’s at least one or two older women in that class who can’t even keep a beat, and they’ve been there longer than _me_. But they still come and do their best! And have fun.” Darcy points out.

Jane pushes her hair back from her face, frowning. “I don’t know-“

“I said no arguments,” Darcy insists firmly, hands now on her hips and wearing a belligerent expression that Jane knows all too well.

Jane sighs again and nods, setting down her coffee cup and curling up under her blanket. She’ll go once or twice, she decides, if only to get Darcy off her back. Once Darcy loses interest, Jane can go back to…

Jane doesn’t even know how to finish that thought. Back to _what_?  Normal? 

She’s not sure she ever will.

*~*~*

It is a further four days – endless days, alternating between inebriation, boredom, and despair, haunted by both the mortal he tells himself he would prefer to forget, and the things that he has done – before Loki receives his next visitor.

This time, it _is_ Thor. Loki counts himself fortunate that he has already imbibed two bottles of wine this morn. Doubtless that will serve to ‘lubricate’ this meeting to something approaching tolerable.

“Here at last, to mock?” Loki hisses with disdain, stalking over to glare across the terrace as he did with Frigga. It is becoming a familiar post.

“No, brother,” Thor contradicts him, shutting the chamber door firmly behind him. 

Thor seems to put extra emphasis on the second word, but Loki does not rise to that familiar bait. It grows tiresome. “Indeed? Perhaps you imagine that as I am now your prisoner, that I will beg your forgiveness?” Loki sneers back over his shoulder at Thor. 

“It is not _my_ forgiveness that you need to earn, Loki,” Thor answers quietly. Loki glances over at him, noting for once that Mjölnir is nowhere to be seen. _That could be a costly mistake. For Thor._ Loki thinks with rising amusement, envisioning his fist connecting with Thor’s face with much relish.

“No, what I wish for the moment is merely to _understand_ ,” Thor continues. “I desire to know how we arrived at this impasse.”

Loki laughs bitterly. “It is far past the hour for that.” Such a lack of intelligence. This, the future King of Asgard?

Thor crosses his arms over his chest, his voice becoming stern. Yet, “Nonetheless,” is all he says. 

Loki turns slowly to face him, fists clenching in his irritation. “Truly, your wisdom is only exceeded by your foolhardiness-“ he retorts sarcastically.

Thor sighs. “Why, Loki? Because you are Jotun? I do not understand why that alone-“

Loki’s eyes widen and he steps forward, finding himself now shaking with rage. “ _That_ , alone? After a lifetime of being told that Jotuns are animals, no, worse than that, _monsters_. After a lifetime of being raised to believe I was something I am _not_ -“ Loki breaks off into a low, acerbic laugh. “But what would the great, golden wonder of Asgard know of any of that? You are not and never were an outcast.”

“Loki, you were not an outcast-“

Loki advances slowly on Thor, hissing his denial through a constricted jaw. “ _Was I not_? You are a poor liar, _brother_. How many times did Sif and the self-named Warriors Three make sport of my abilities with magic? I remind you again of their slander regarding Sleipnir.”

Thor opens his mouth but Loki barrels on heedlessly. “Oh, it is evident why Odin favoured you, being a true Asgardian as you are. And _he_ always knew what I was. But everyone else?” Loki practically spits the words. “You _warriors_ , with your foolish penchant for charging blindly into battle and calling it honour. But try to avoid bloodshed with magic, or diplomatically with fast speech…oh no, I am a wielder of _woman’s magic_ , a weakling, someone who earns victory with mere _trickery_ rather than honourable blood and sweat and steel. The silver-tongued Liesmith. And that was when they thought me Asgardian.” He barely pauses in his heated rant. “Unless, of course, we were in full retreat and then you and they _needed_ my skills. But even then, my efforts were quickly forgotten, or reconstructed and mocked as soon as it was convenient, lest the tales of the battle focus too much on the _dishonourable_.”

He’s standing nearly toe-to-toe with Thor now, braced for a fight, but to his faint surprise it is Thor who backs down, turning away. “I am sorry,” Thor says, further startling Loki, his voice and face heavy with sorrow, “if you feel we made sport of you. But Loki, do you not remember that we did much the same with each other, amongst _ourselves_? How many times was Sif in tears in the early days of her training, when the others would ridicule her for her efforts? When they would dismiss her as a mere girl playing at being a man? Even I took insults from our trainers and our peers as I was learning to wield Mjölnir. Do you remember none of that?”

Loki smiles but it’s hard and cruel on his lips. “We’ve covered this ground before.” He moves back towards the windows, boots stamping. His body is tense, ready for battle. Perhaps he should indulge in that?

When Loki glances back, Thor looks wistful. “Surely it cannot have been all bad. Did we not have good times together?”

“Built on lies,” Loki counters with a hiss.

Thor sighs. “Even if it was, the past cannot be changed. If you feel you were treated like an outcast, that your worth was ignored by everyone, by _me_ , if that is what you perceived, then I can only request your forgiveness for that.”

Loki answers only with a snarl. As if his forgiveness will be bought so easily!

“Similarly, I can only request forgiveness for my prior attitudes towards your people. You are right; we _were_ raised that way, and I should have questioned it, instead of merely falling into step with the rest-“

“They are not _my people_!” Enraged beyond reason, Loki turns and bolts at him, strikes at Thor-

But his former brother only shifts aside just enough for the blow to miss by a mere inch, a moment later taking hold of Loki’s wrist.

“I know you wish it were otherwise, Loki,” Thor agrees quietly. “But either way, it matters not to me. You _are_ my brother, no matter the circumstances of your birth.”

Loki laughs and shies away, wrenching his wrist viciously free even though Thor’s grip had been loose. “Brother to _this_ , then?” Deliberately Loki allows the _cold_ into himself, feels the change coming over his skin, the temperature in the chamber around them dropping precipitously. “Come and embrace me as a brother should, then,” he hisses, spreading his arms wide.

Thor, to Loki’s grudging credit, does not blanch at this abrupt change. “I would, Loki, were it not that your skin in such a state would burn me.”

“No,” Loki spits at him, icicles beginning to form into long daggerlike projections at the end of each of his fingers. “You will not accept me because you hate me. You hate all Jotuns. You think me a monster, you want me dead-“ Never mind the fact that Loki _himself_ wishes that he were dead, rather than endure this cursed existence one moment longer-

“You are not listening to me, Loki,” Thor interrupts him with calm, firm words, though they only serve to increase Loki’s wrath. “The utterances of hate you have heard up until this point were nothing more than the words of a child, raised a certain way and knowing no better. I set all that aside now. As I once said before to you, we were raised together, played together, fought together. Can you not understand how that could overcome all other considerations?” Thor shakes his head. “You are no monster, except perhaps for the things you have done-“

“Even Jane called me monster,” Loki rasps, pointing his cyan arms and icicle daggers towards Thor in open threat.

Thor crosses his arms across his chest, his brow finally starting to furrow with anger, to Loki’s satisfaction. “You said yourself, she was confused by The Other’s spell at the time. But let us leave the subject of Jane aside for a moment.” 

Thor makes a visible effort to calm himself. “The things you have done…attacking Midgard makes sense now, in the context of the tale you told Odin and Fury. And now that I have seen The Other with my own eyes. In addition, Heimdall has reported some…disturbing things from the edges of Yggdrasil.”

He pauses as if waiting for Loki to request more information, but Loki does not care to think of Thanos now. Nor of what threat he may be to Jane-

Loki turns away, releasing the _cold_ at the same time, shuddering as Odin’s illusion enfolds him once more.

“It is harder to accept how you lied to me about Father being dead, when I was banished to Midgard. And how you sent the Destroyer after me and our friends.” Thor’s voice is soft, sympathetic, but it still only fuels Loki’s ire. How dare Thor condescend to him!? “I can only imagine that you must have been in incredible pain, to have done such things-“

“You know nothing of it, _Odin_ son. I did it to protect my throne!” Loki answers in a growl. It’s safer to lie, to stay away from the subject of his pain and insanity.

Thor cocks his head. “As I recall, you yourself told me that you did not want the throne. That you wanted merely to be my equal. I know that you are intelligent enough to realize you were only a temporary king, even if my banishment had not ended. Odin would have woken and re-assumed his position. So surely that is not why you acted as you did.”

Loki grinds his teeth. His brother has the right of it, yet the need to make Thor angry drives him to reach for new insults. “True, for once. I did not want it. Oh, it was amusing enough while it lasted, but to spend my days dealing with petty people and their petty arguments and complaints – Faugh!” He lets a sly grin cross his face, and across the room Thor shifts uneasily. “No,” Loki continues silkily, “I never wanted the throne. I became resigned long ago to being only second best. No, I only wished to ensure that _you_ would never get it, or at least to delay the inevitable.” 

He can well remember his resentment that day, that someone so unqualified would rise to the throne of Asgard. His outrage at how everyone, far and wide, had adored Thor. How none had seemed to comprehend just how poor a king Thor would have made. How no one noticed or realized just how many of Thor’s gaffes or grievous errors _Loki_ had in fact been responsible for repairing. No, he did the work, and Thor reaped the glory and accolades. 

Indeed, he loved Thor – or _had_ loved Thor, at one time – but the allure of creating a little chaos and bringing his brother’s coronation to ruin had been too seductive to ignore. It had been too good a chance to pass up, to give Odin and the people an opportunity to see the flaws in their golden prince of thunder.  

Thor blinks. “Why?”

Loki throws his head back and cackles. “Why? Must I list all your attributes, _brother_? Arrogant, prideful, oafish, and above all, _war-mongering_.” Thor’s expression darkens and Loki edges forward, a vicious glee rising in his chest. Now, surely, they will come to blows-

But Thor turns away once more, rubbing his forehead as if Loki’s words have pained him. “Yes,” Thor agrees after a moment, and it is now Loki’s turn to furrow his brow. “I will grant you, before I fell to Earth, before I was stripped of my powers and believed myself disowned from Asgard, I was all of those things. Perhaps you were even right to act as you did.”

Loki shakes his head, refusing to accept Thor’s apology, if that is even what it is. “I think you forget, Odinson, _I_ am the Liesmith here.” No, Loki cannot believe that Thor would ever accept what Loki had done as having any possible merit; surely that is a jest or a lie. Hot tears threaten to spill over his lower lids, and, mortified, Loki turns aside to hide his weakness. _Sentiment,_ he mocks himself.

For just a fraction of a moment, he admits to himself that to a certain extent he pines for that old life. Not just the companionship of his brother and comrades, of his family, but also for the comfort of that old life, before he learned of his true heritage. Yes, he’d been merely the second in line to the throne, but he'd had his place at court, his place by Thor’s side.

Things had been so much simpler then. Cleaner.

_ But, _ he reminds himself _, it was all a lie_. Would it have been better to live on in ignorance, never learning what he was, believing the lie? 

Right now, it does seem rather more attractive, considering how all has turned out.

Thor shakes his head in negation, taking several steps towards Loki. “I am not lying, brother. I am trying to rebuild things between us. If you will allow that.” The expression of despair on Thor’s face fills Loki with a curious mixture of mirth, rage, and sadness. “I would have my brother back.”

Loki backs up a few paces, matching Thor’s advance, keeping distance between them. “No, you would have me trail after you, always in your shadow, just as before,” he snarls. Perhaps Thor is willing to forgive Loki, but that does not mean Loki is willing to forgive _him_. 

Thor had thwarted Loki’s single greatest attempt to prove himself. To end that race of monsters, to prove once and for all that Loki is _Asgardian_. No, he cannot forgive that, ever.

Thor crosses his arms across his chest, irritation once more apparent in his next words: “You are quick to tell me how things _will_ be. Have you gained the gift of foresight, Loki? Things have changed. _I_ have changed, or at least I have attempted to.” He cocks his head, eyes narrowing as he thinks. “Perhaps _you_ have changed, too? A year ago, I am sure you would not have done what you did, coming to Jane’s rescue. And have I not proven myself your ally, helping you in that important task?”

Loki’s shoulders tighten and hunch. He should have anticipated that the conversation would eventually return to the subject of that _mortal_. Will he never be free of her?

When Loki sullenly does not answer Thor’s last question, his un-brother tries a new tack. “That is another thing I wish to understand - how you could abandon one who loves you. Even if you hate the rest of us for what has occurred, what has _Jane_ done to earn your enmity?” He pauses, then adds: “Especially in so short a time, mere days after we rescued her? Even if she spoke thoughtlessly to you, surely it was the fault of the terrors she experienced.” Thor does not say it, but Loki is sure he is referring to Jane’s ‘monster’ accusation.

Loki still says nothing, turning to stare out at the panoramic view of Asgard once more, but he feels his hackles rise as Thor steps closer. “Did you not love her in return-“

Loki turns back to Thor with a harsh laugh. “Love her? I did not love her. What has love ever gained me? I _loved_ Odin, Frigga, you…”

Thor growls and crosses the room quickly, clasping Loki by the upper arms and shoving him into the wall next to the window, his fingers digging into Loki. “An accomplished liar you are, brother, but in this you can _not_. And so I repeat: Even if you loathe all of us, what has Jane done? How could you leave her to deal with the aftermath of her torture alone? Never mind leaving her defenseless, should Thanos or any of his ilk come looking for her.” He gives Loki a sharp shake, as if trying to wake him from a deep slumber. “Never would I have left Midgard with you to come here, had I realized you would not be returning to her side.”

Loki smirks wickedly. Oh, his brother definitely still _cares_ for the mortal. That much is evident. Oh, this is _good_. He will use the subject of Jane to goad Thor into a fight, and neatly relieve this boredom. Finally, Loki will have a target for his bottomless anger.

So Loki chooses to laugh mockingly in Thor’s face. “Afraid, _brother_ , that our loving Father will hold you accountable for my…misbehaviour? Especially since it was _you_ who chose to leave your precious Jane Foster in my less-than-savoury company?” Thor is always so quick to attribute ill intent to Loki; perhaps for once Loki can use that to further his own ends.

Thor’s fingers tighten on Loki even harder, though his voice remains calm. “No, I am fairly convinced that she is _your_ ‘precious Jane Foster’. Which begs the question of why you have left her alone to face potential enemies. _Your_ enemies, Loki.”

Loki twists away with a gutter curse and a shove. “Still in love with her, Thor?”

Thor’s fists clench. “Just because matters ended between her and I, does not mean that I no longer care about her welfare. Especially after what happened to her. Do you truly care not that she was tortured because of what _you_ have done?”

That hits a nerve, and Loki whirls to face Thor again, goaded beyond his plan to act aloof on all matters relating to that _mortal_ : “I left Jane _for_ Jane. As long as she is with me, and as long as Thanos is hunting me, there will be the potential for her to endure more of the same. If she is not killed outright.” Loki takes a deep, shuddering breath, rage and guilt vying to rule him. “The farther I am away from her, the safer she will ultimately be. If I am here, they will conclude that I care not, and will not bother to seek her out.”

Thor’s lip curls in disdain. “What foolishness is _that_? She needs you, Loki. Not just your comfort at this trying time, but your _protection_. How can you desert her like this? If it were I, I would be by her side _whatever_ enemy was threatening, defending her-“

Loki snarls, rage driving him to get right into Thor’s face. He nearly spits his next words. “No, I am not _you_ , Thor. I did not leave her alone on Midgard as you did, when you raced back here to challenge my rule. I _am_ defending her, though it may not seem obvious to the likes of you. No, I am not like _you_ ,” he repeats icily, “limited to your meager brawn. While Jane was recovering in the flying fortress, I laid my strongest protective magics on the torc I gave her. Spells to render her invisible to anyone looking for her with ill intent in their hearts, spells to inform me if danger is nearby, spells to track her so I can find her immediately should she somehow still be attacked, or if someone tries to steal her away again.”

Thor’s expression of anger and contempt does not change. “Does she even know of this? What if she finds a way to get your jewelry off-“

“She can’t,” Loki snaps. “I have seen to that. What use a tracking spell, if she can slip free of it? You may not value my magic, _brother_ , but I assure you it will be more than sufficient. A far better shield for Jane than you, or even you and our _friends_ combined.”

Predictably, Thor remains unimpressed. _Fool._

“Deception may have served you well in the past,” Thor counters, “but I do not see it working so well here, brother. Even if all is as you say, even if your ability to protect her with magic works as perfectly as you claim…surely you can see that she needs you there, with her, at this difficult time? What spell have you laid to help her with _that_?”

A fresh rush of guilt assails Loki, and he turns from Thor once more to hide the spasm of emotion on his face. Of course Thor would not value Loki’s magic. Has he ever, unless it served him?

Of course, many others at court, and among the ranks of their warriors, had felt much the same. _Oh, look at the weedy little Prince, how he stands in the shadows, casting his_ woman’s magics _, rather than charging into battle like his brave brother Thor? Well, likely he is not strong enough to wield a sword. Or perhaps he fears for his pretty, pale skin?_

Rage coils tightly in him once more, a serpent looking to strike. “If you value her so much, why not go and defend her yourself?” Loki rasps.

“I value her as a friend, Loki,” Thor answers firmly. “Nothing more, though as I stated already, this does not mean I no longer care about her well-being. Or that I do not have Heimdall check on her from time to time. He tells me she _struggles_ , Loki. Does that not pain you? I refuse to believe that your heart has grown so like stone in so short a time.” He pauses, then adds, a slight note of threat in his tone: “Did you not promise me once that you would not harm any mortals? Well, I include _Jane_ in that promise.”

But Loki is barely listening; a new scheme has occurred to him. At once abhorrent, and yet utterly perfect. Protection for Jane, and punishment for himself, for the pain he has brought her.

“ _You_ named yourself protector of Midgard. And it’s obvious you still care for her. Perhaps you are the one who should return to Midgard and be by her side. I am sure after all that I have done to prove how unworthy I am, she will be happy to receive you back,” Loki suggests, though the words attempt to stick and catch in his throat. “Indeed, girded with both my spells and your strength, surely not even Thanos himself could harm her.”

The more Loki thinks on it, the more of a twisted kind of sense it makes, painful though it is. He should never have become involved with a mere mortal, never let her inside his heart, and above all he should never have become so complacent about those who were looking to take their revenge on him, and by extension, her.

Therefore, he deserves to suffer. And what could be worse than returning his ‘prize’ back into Thor’s keeping?

Though Thor _would_ be the ideal defender for Jane. The mortals have powerful weapons, but not much knowledge of the Worlds Tree and the evils that reside in it. Thor is far better equipped to deal with such matters, and Mjölnir not a weapon which Thanos can easily dismiss. 

Perfection.

But Thor is shaking his head, frowning angrily. “Have you drunk so much mead this morning that it has addled your brain?” Thor accuses, jabbing his finger at the pile of empty bottles spilling out from under Loki’s bed. “Jane does not want me. She chose _you_ , Loki. I doubt she would have me back, even if I wanted to come between you. Which I do _not_.”

“No doubt she would reconsider, given the protection you can offer, which I cannot,” Loki rasps. “Not without putting her at further risk.” And himself at risk, of developing _sentiment_ for her, though Loki leaves that last thing unsaid.

“No, she will not, and I think you know this. Besides, the responsibility is _yours_ , Loki. You began this relationship with her. What cowardice is it that you use what happened to her as this thin excuse to abandon her?”

Thor’s voice has become contemptuous, cutting, and Loki answers it with his own snarl of contempt. “Even if I agreed with you – which I do _not_ – what does it even matter whether I wish to return to her or not? Now that I am here, Odin will surely never let me leave.” Loki rasps, conscious of the ache building in his throat. 

This is gaining him nothing. Better to pursue a new line of verbal attack.

“Which I am sure is exactly as you wish,” Loki adds with a dry rasp. “You did not help me rescue Jane out of the goodness of your heart. No, you did it to gain a _reward_ ; I am home, a prisoner, an example for Odin to hold up to the people. The favoured son brings the wayward, evil son to justice. Let me presume, that if I do not accede to the All-Father’s demands, whatever they be, he will strip me of my Asgardian illusion and cage me in the main courtyard, for all to stare at and make sport of? A punishment worthy of the All-Father.”

Thor’s brow darkens further, and Loki finally hears a distant rumble of thunder. He smirks, flexing his hand as he begins the spell to conjure a knife. Finally, they will come to blows. He _craves_ it. A distraction at last-

But Thor’s next words surprise him. “Contrary to what you believe, I neither agree with nor approve of all that Odin does.” There’s a pause, during which Thor appears deep in thought, but then the corner of his mouth quirks as he adds: “Well, I suppose _that_ hasn’t changed much since before my banishment.”

“What nonsense are you spouting _now_?” Loki growls at him. Gods, he may just attack Thor himself-

“Surely you recall the argument that led to my fall to Midgard.” Thor points out. “Indeed, I am not sure where you created this fiction that I am the favoured son; as I recall, Odin and I were often at odds with each other when I was younger. And that, alas, has not changed. Even the way he exiled me to Midgard, though I did gain much from the experience, does not sit well with me.”

So, even Thor sees the flaws in Odin. _Interesting._ Perhaps Loki is not the only one who desires to take up against the All-Father.

Thor continues, fixing Loki with a direct gaze. “And while I think Odin made no error when he took you from your home, given you were wounded and had been left to die, I do not think he did well when he hid the truth of your heritage from you. Perhaps things might have been easier for you, perhaps not. Perhaps we as a people would have been forced to address our prejudices towards Jotunheim and its people, had you been raised as you actually _are_.”

Loki raises a brow, wondering how much Thor actually knows of the matter. “Did he not tell you the real reason why he took me? Because it was _not_ out of compassion or pity,” he asserts in bitter tones. Still, he feels some of his tension ease; the only things they have in common to discuss are Jane and their family, and he would rather not address the first topic.

Thor’s eyes narrow. “What are you speaking of?”

Loki cannot help but laugh. “No, indeed, why should he tell you? His _great plan_ , which failed so catastrophically.” He laughs again, though even he must acknowledge the edge of hysteria in it.

“Loki, _tell_ me.”

Loki shakes his head, still laughing almost against his will. “Why should I? What bargain will you make with me, so that you do not need to go and question the mighty and infallible Father of All?”

In an eyeblink Thor is in front of Loki, gripping his shoulders almost hard enough to bruise, even through Loki’s armour. His gaze is intense, searing into Loki’s. “ _Tell_ me.”

Something in Thor’s scrutiny unsettles him – _sympathy_? – but Loki decides sharing Odin’s folly with Thor cannot bring any further harm. “He wished me to ascend to the throne…of _Jotunheim_. He seemed to think raising me as full Asgardian, even while denying me the knowledge of my true heritage, would somehow prepare me well for that role. Perhaps make for peace between our Realms.” 

Loki shakes his head, his laughter finally ceasing. It still pains him, the idea that Odin expected him to embrace his heritage, to leave the only home he has ever known - flawed as many aspects of it may be - to take up the inglorious task of ruling and holding down those…animals.

“But then,” Loki continues, his voice turning ugly once more, “Once you took it upon your foolish self to start a war with them, once I discovered on my own what I was, well…Odin could not admit his error. He conveniently fell into the Sleep instead, and left me to try to make sense of the ashes of my former life on my own!” The end of his sentence curls into a snarl, and he shoves at Thor with all his strength.

Thor releases him, mouth agape, his eyes looking upon Loki though not seeing him. Then Thor shuts his mouth with an audible snap. “I did not know-“ he begins.

“So,” Loki interrupts, feeling as if something has finally come undone within him, “When Mother offered me the throne, I accepted. I thought that perhaps, especially with _you_ out of the way, here was my chance to prove myself a true son of Odin and of Asgard. To prove myself your equal, even if I am not and never will be heir to the throne, by eliminating the threat of Jotunheim once and for all.” Also so that he could not be forced to rule them, Loki did not add. The accursed Frost Giants are their ancient enemy; there would be no honour whatsoever in being their ruler, only in conquering them or destroying them. For Odin to even conceive of offering Loki so menial and pointless a task had only confirmed how little Loki meant to his supposed father. 

Nor does Loki explain to Thor his role in setting Laufey to attack Odin. That had all been part of the same plan, though he doubted Thor would see any wisdom or beauty in it.

“I did not expect _that woman_ to change you. To make you so enamoured of the Frost Giants.” Loki continues, though his passion to tell the tale has abruptly deserted him. “You know the rest,” Loki adds after a silence, turning away. He’s exhausted, he realizes. Why had he thought coming here would be better than roaming the universe, always keeping one step ahead of Thanos? That seems the lesser of various evils at the present time.

“No, I do not. Why did you send the Destroyer after us?” Thor presses him.

Loki shakes his head. “Our _friends_ -“ he sneers the word, “did not trust me, did not wish to acknowledge the legitimacy of my rule. I witnessed them using the Bifröst to come reclaim you, despite my express edict forbidding it. And I could not countenance that my efforts to prove myself to Odin would be sidetracked by _you_ , the banished, disavowed son.”

Loki readies himself, waiting for Thor’s anger, but again it does not come. When he turns to look, Thor is pacing slowly, brow furrowed as if deep in thought. _No doubt having to think so much_ pains _him_ , Loki crows viciously inside his own mind.

“Our father does not find it easy to admit his mistakes, this I wholly grant you. Though the idea he fell deliberately into the Odin-Sleep to avoid your anger seems…cowardly of him. You and I both know that he had held off the Sleep for some time, and yet…” Thor says, though his voice trails off, and it seems as if he is talking to himself more than to Loki.

“What nonsense are you prattling on about _now_?” Loki tries to goad him, but Thor looks down at the floor, still pacing and obviously still ruminating.

When he finally stops and turns back to Loki, understanding with a touch of horror is dawning in Thor’s gaze, and Loki feels something inside him clench tightly, wondering at Thor’s discovery.

“You keep saying that Jane Foster is responsible for the changes in me,” Thor starts, his voice quiet and pensive. “But I do not believe that was the reason. Losing my powers, and then believing that Odin was dead and that Asgard was lost to me forever…those were the key reasons, Loki. I valued greatly Jane’s kindness towards me during those difficult times, but…ultimately it was what the All-Father did which helped me to finally see the error of my ways.”

Loki makes an impatient gesture, but Thor continues undeterred. “But I think I begin to see now, that was not the _only_ lesson he set in motion. Two sides of the same coin.”

Loki’s teeth grind. “I repeat, what nonsense-“ he hisses.

“Do you not see it, brother? Two opposing lessons at the same time. One son banished, all his powers taken away from him, cast out to live among the mortals. And the other brother, given absolute power, made ruler over all of Asgard.”

Loki makes an inarticulate sound of negation, half laugh and half snarl. “No, you are wrong, it was Frigga who chose to offer me the throne-“ 

His words freeze in his throat. _And_ w _hy did she offer me the throne?_

_ Because Odin was in his Sleep. _

Odin’s Sleep. The way he had escaped Loki’s ire and pain. Is Thor right, had it been for not one, but _two_ purposes?

Loki turns and stares blindly out the windows once more, no longer heeding Thor’s words.

Frigga would never have given Loki the throne had Odin not been Sleeping. 

Loki’s brow aches, pain shooting across it, settling into it, and Thor nattering anxiously behind him does not help. “Get out,” he snarls back over his shoulder at his un-brother. Loki needs quiet, needs to _think_.

“Loki, I-“

“GET OUT!” he screams it, even louder than he bellowed those words at Frigga mere days ago. As then, he can feel his magic boiling to the surface, but even as he starts to release it, the door to his chamber closes with a bang.

He is alone. 

He savagely wrestles his magic back to a standstill, turning his mind back to the question at hand. He paces a slow circuit around the room, seeing nothing. 

The part of his mind in which so many schemes have been hatched, takes this tentative scheme, turning it every which way.

Take everything from the favoured son.

Give everything to the lesser son.

Then sit back and see what comes of it…

Loki’s pace slows and then stops, the blood pounding in his ears.

He had thought the lie of his existence had been Odin’s greatest scheme, but even as his soul twists at the thought of the betrayal heaped upon betrayal, the trickster part of him admires the twisted elegance of it all.

The balance. 

Switch the relative positions of favoured and outcast son. Give one everything – power, trust – and leave the other  bereft of family, of home, of all his magic…how could such brilliance be anything but one of the All-Father’s plans?

_ It’s surely too perfect to be accident, or coincidence.  _

Had not Frigga said that Odin could still hear, was aware even in the midst of his Sleep? An ideal perch from which to watch his sons meet their respective challenges, was it not?

Anger burns like acid in his belly and throat. Because the game had been rigged,  had it not? Loki, half-mad with grief and pain, already seeking a grand gesture to prove himself worthy…and then had come the threat of being unseated by Thor. How could Odin have expected Loki to react any other way?

_ Your father never does anything without a purpose.  _

A new and terrible thought occurs to Loki – perhaps it had even been _intended_ that he would fail. 

Thor had been given an opportunity to sacrifice himself to save the mortals, to sacrifice the Bifröst to save the Jotuns…neither of which would have occurred if Loki had not been on the throne of Asgard.

Had Loki in fact been used as a tool, to help mould Thor into the hero that Odin wished him to be? To alter him from the arrogant, proud, vainglorious warrior he used to be?

Oh yes, sheer perfection. The chess-master in him must admire it, even as wrath seethes within him.

_ Betrayed and  _ used _by Odin not once, but twice._

It rings in his ears as Loki looks around the room. He realizes he is standing in the corner of his chamber where the tall mirror is. It reflects his visage back at him, horror and rage written across his pale features.

Except, they are not _really_ his features, are they?

_ Get away from me, you monster!  _ Jane’s voice sounds in his head again.

_ You’re a monster.  _ Agent Romanov speaks in his head as well.

Then it is his voice, spoken in grief and aversion to Odin all those months ago:  _ Because I am the monster parents tell their children about at night? _

_ Jane saw the monster in me, no matter the illusion hiding me. As has everyone else. _

Odin had seen to it, hadn’t he? The monster had served its purpose well. He may not have been able to rule Jotunheim in the end, but he had been the whetstone to hone Thor into a true king.

_ No. Odin did not need to see to anything. You think yourself a master strategist, but you were bested, were you not? _

_ Worse, you leaped just  _ so _willingly into Odin’s trap, didn’t you?_

_ Didn’t you? _

_ Monster. _

No. _No._ NO _. NO!_

It is too much. He cannot tolerate it. It must end. _Everything_ must end. 

The first item struck is his mirror, shattering into tiny fragments, each one reflecting a tiny portion of his accursed self before Loki wheels to face the middle of the room, ignoring the tiny pieces of glass embedded in his knuckles. 

Every muscle in his body goes taut with strain as his magic lashes out of him, mirroring his need to destroy. He will destroy _everything_. He will lay waste to all of Asgard, Midgard, even Yggdrasil-

The windows shatter one by one, spilling glass shards across the floor with a tinkling noise which is almost musical. Next the empty wine bottles explode, one after the other, and Loki is not surprised to find he is _laughing_ uncontrollably, even as tears run down his face to patter onto the floor beneath him. A floor which is beginning to heave and buckle, groaning under the force of his unending ire.

Loki cannot destroy himself (much as he wishes to), immortal that he is. In the absence of being able to seek that peace, he will end all the _rest_. Such is his promise to the universe.

His magic screams along the walls, throwing books, hurling pieces of furniture over with splintering crashes, slicing the mattress. Feathers begin to drift lazily through the air… but it is not enough.

No, he wants to ruin it all with his bare hands. His teeth even, if necessary. Let him give in to his basest rage, let him be at last truly the monster that he has denied for so long, even as others so obviously deduced it.

He shreds his magic into useless ribbons and attacks the only piece of furniture still relatively whole – the bed – himself, flipping it over and breaking each leg with a single hard kick. Yes, that is uniquely satisfying. To _feel_ the wood coming undone under his boot- If only he could set upon Thanos this way. Against Odin. Against _every last one of them_.

Loki savours the memory of crushing The Other into tiny chips of ice under his heel, as he systematically begins to reduce the bed-frame to splinters.

The sound of his chamber door slamming open causes Loki to spin in place. He discovers to his horror that he is still laughing, and _crying_ , and some part of him shrinks in embarrassment to see Thor standing there in the doorway, mouth agape at the wanton destruction. “Loki-” Thor begins as he walks into the room, arms outstretched towards Loki.

The door hurls itself shut behind Thor hard enough to warp door and frame, and Loki roars like an animal and hurls himself at Thor. 

He’d prefer Odin, that _accursed whoreson_ , but he’ll settle for the golden child, the always-favoured son. The son that he, Loki, can and never will be. His hands close around Thor’s neck, fingers and nails digging into skin, throttling.

Thor knocks Loki’s hands away, though it takes him several tries, his face purple by the time Loki is forced to release him. Thor is the stronger, he always has been, but this time Loki is fuelled by a murderous hatred. 

A wrath that will not be quenched until Thor lies cold and unmoving on the floor.

Loki launches a blow which connects solidly with Thor’s jaw, snapping his head around, and Thor grunts but does not retaliate. 

Loki strikes him again, in the exact same spot. Distantly he is aware of someone screaming in rage, but it takes Loki several moments to realize it is himself.

He _wants_ Thor to strike him back, wants to draw blood and have his own be drawn, to listen to the droplets falling to the floor like rain. But Thor merely stands there, taking each blow. He flinches but does not fight back, not even when Loki snarls, teeth clenched so tight they must surely crack and crumble to fragments, and conjures a knife, driving it deep into Thor’s side.

His former brother gasps and doubles over, but does nothing else. He makes no move to defend himself. There is only that accursed _sentiment_ in his face as he watches Loki, blood trickling from a cut on his cheek.

Feathers from the mattress drift slowly around them, falling like snow on Jotunheim, and Loki can now barely see through a haze of tears, feels deafened by his own roars. There’s a high buzzing in his ears, in his mind.

He tries to stab Thor again but his foot catches and slips on one of the flagstones his magic has wrenched free, and he trips and falls to one knee in front of his not-brother, his whole body jarred by the impact.

The shock of it casts the rage out of him, as if he were an overturned goblet. Dazed, Loki halts, dropping the dagger and looking around first at the ruin of his rooms, then at Thor still crouched over in front of him, Thor’s expression sad and compassionate even as blood rapidly darkens the side of his mail. 

Loki puts both bloodied hands to his face, lost. Adrift in a sea of pain.

_ You leaped just  _ so _willingly into Odin’s trap._

Try as he might to blame Odin, even he, the God of Lies, must acknowledge that no one had made him attack Thor with the Destroyer. No one had forced him to try to destroy Jotunheim. 

No one had forced him to leave Jane’s side for this _hell_.

His earlier thought reoccurs: _That one misguided decision – letting myself fall from the Asbru bridge - has cost me everything. I have lost_ everything _._

“What have I done?” he whispers, his voice so hoarse that the words sound barely intelligible to even his ears.

Coming to him as if from afar, there is the sound of his other dagger hitting the floor – presumably the one he had lodged in Thor’s body – and then hands firmly grasp at his upper arms. “Loki,” Thor’s voice comes to him, the volume rising and falling in Loki’s ringing ears like a wave.

“You are in pain, my brother,” Thor continues in low tones, “and for my part, it was never my intent to hurt you. If I did that, knowingly or unknowingly, then I can only hope you will forgive me in time.”

Loki shakes his head, but for once he cannot speak. His silver tongue has been stilled. The depths of his misery threaten to shatter his tenuous sanity.

The door groans, startling them both, and Frigga shoves her way into the room, Guards struggling to hold the door open for her before she banishes them with a wave of her hand. The door snaps shut once more, leaving them alone in this tableau of Loki’s agony.

“My son,” she asserts gently, kneeling next to them, and finally Loki can hold the pain at bay no longer. 

He weeps.

Time slips, skips, slows and speeds. Loki knows he should be mortified, to be seen this way in front of his _enemies_ , but…the tears refuse to yield to his rule.

Still, every well must eventually run dry, and when Loki’s tears are finally spent, Frigga wordlessly hands him a cloth to dry his face.

“Brother-“ Thor tries again, but Loki cuts him off.

“ _I_ am to blame,” Loki says, his voice slow and reluctant, barely recognizable to his own ears. “Odin may have lit the fuse, but I made those decisions. I chose to send the Destroyer to Earth after you, I chose to attempt to raze Jotunheim, and to…” He pauses, his throat clicking as he swallows convulsively. “…let go of Gungnir and fall into the abyss. I must own what I have done.” He shakes his head, pain pulsing behind his eyes. “But I do not know _how_ -“ How can he move forward?

Frigga leans into him and draws him into her arms, and Loki allows it. All his fight is gone, not that fighting has served him well thus far.

“You do,” Thor counters, but his tone remains gentle. “You have committed evil, brother, but there is good in you yet. I do not believe Jane would ever have chosen you otherwise. And I saw you race across Yggdrasil to save her with my own eyes, saw you use your Jotun powers – a very useful tool, were they in that moment – to destroy the foul being who had tortured her.”

But Loki says nothing, too deep in his misery to see an egress, his blood-smeared hands curling around Frigga’s arms as she continues to hold him.

“Yes, you have made some poor choices, but you can begin to make better ones, Loki. It is not too late. You can start with Jane Foster.”

Loki laughs bitterly, pushing himself out of Frigga’s grasp, though he does it with gentleness. “Even if she would have me back now,” he rasps, “which is not assured, Odin will not release me. He will want to use me to set some kind of example, surely-“

“He _will_ release you,” Frigga contradicts him firmly. “Thor and I will see to it. It serves little purpose to keep you a prisoner here. How can you make amends otherwise? We are your family, Loki. Even Odin is, though I see you do not believe it yet.” She pauses and smiles sadly. “But Thor and I are here to assist you, always. Never doubt that.”

As much as Loki _aches_ to believe that, some things are not so easy to release, miserable as they are. “I am not of your blood,” he insists listlessly. “Why do you persist in clinging to this fiction that I am-“

“Your home, your people, are wherever and whomever you choose, Loki. You are who and what you decide to be, regardless of whether your flesh is Asgardian or Jotun,” his former mother argues quietly.

But Loki still can’t believe it will be that easy. Nothing in his life has ever come easily, so why should things be different now?

“Odin is King of Asgard. Am I truly to believe that you will gainsay him?”

Thor shrugs, the corner of his mouth quirking in a small smile. “Odin and I are already at odds over my decision to leave you free on Midgard these many weeks past. What further harm can be done? Besides, the majority of the damage you wrought was on Midgard. As protector of Midgard, an argument could be made that it should fall to _me_ to decide your punishment.” Both Thor and Frigga are smirking now, and Loki has to wonder if this is something the two of them have plotted together.

Still, it feels too easy. Much as he would like to return to Midgard and resolve matters with Jane, he cannot afford to lose sight of the larger issue. “Even assuming Odin would allow my return, this does not change the fact that so long as Thanos searches for me, Jane could be made a target. I cannot allow that.” 

Thor shakes his head. “Do you truly believe that leaving her will make her any _less_ a target? Surely there is little cost to Thanos to go after Jane, whether or not it appears that you no longer care for her. Even if your protective magics are powerful, surely they can only be helped by your presence.”

But Loki does not know if he can risk it again; the guilt, the pain, the fear of not knowing where Jane is, if she is being irreparably hurt or worse. He rubs at his temples. “I do not know that I can bring myself to risk her safety-“

“This has to stop, Loki,” Thor interrupts. “I understand your thinking, but in truth you are utterly miserable, and Heimdall tells me Jane does not appear to be faring much better. She has turned from her stars, barely sets foot in her own home. She _suffers_.”

Frigga adds, her tone gentle despite her hard words: “If this mortal is at risk, it is because of _you_ , Loki. As Thor says, your magic may suffice to keep her safe, or it may not, but what of the damage that has already been done? Return to her. Help her.”

“I do not know if I can…if I can bear it if she is ever taken from me again,” Loki admits reluctantly, voice thick. 

Frigga speaks now in an exasperated tone. “Love has costs, Loki! You can either protect yourself and be alone, or you can take risks and be with others. You cannot have the two at once.”

Loki shifts laboriously to his feet, picking his way through debris. He paces, seeing nothing, lost in his internal debate while behind him, Thor and Frigga wait silently to hear his decision.

_ This is the turning point, _ he realizes. Just as when he hung over the abyss, before he chose to let go and tumble through space after the remains of the Bifröst. He can deny Thor and Frigga (and Odin) and wallow here, indefinitely. While Jane heals (hopefully) and then moves on, assuming Thanos never finds her.

Or, he can try to change. To make, as Thor has said, better decisions.

Loki shudders. An abyss of a different kind hangs before him now. Dare he jump into _this_ one?

After an eternity of indecision, he decides that he will forgive Thor and Frigga – _perhaps,_ in time – for their roles in this comedy. But not the architect, the puppet master of this entire farce that is his life – not Odin.

He supposes with a small measure of amusement that he must also attempt to forgive himself as well, but he does not know if that is possible.

But a good first start may be to see if Jane Foster of Midgard will forgive him.

Loki sighs at last, his whole frame wanting to slump with exhaustion, and turns to his impromptu audience. “Very well,” he states quietly. “I will return to her. You have the right of it; she has never hurt me, and it was cowardly of me to leave her alone.” He squares his shoulders, hoping that it is not too late to salvage what he can. _Though she deserves better,_ his mind whispers traitorously.

Frigga’s lips curve in a warm smile. “An excellent decision, my son. But first,” she says, eyeing first his chambers and then him, critically, “You will _clean your room_. And then we simply must do something to tame that mane of yours. You can hardly woo your Midgardian while looking like such a vagabond.”

Loki rolls his eyes upwards to the ceiling and grimaces, though despite his best efforts, he cannot help but feel the slightest glimmer of affection. How easily they slip back into old roles.

“Yes, Mother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there's a fourth part to this (I figured an 100-page chapter was pushing it...way to break all my previous records for chapter length!). But it's already written, so I expect it will go up relatively quickly. Life permitting, of course!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Five of the Light in the Dark series. Loki returns to Earth, but will our favourite astrophysicist take him back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Many thanks to canyr12, with extra kudos for putting up with my impatience!  
> Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. I’m just borrowing them. Briefly.  
> Author’s Note: My sincerest apologies to everyone for the long delay in posting this. I really thought it would go up much more quickly, but alas this time my beta’s life was not cooperating! *sigh* But at least I’ve already started working on the sequel (and there are 4 chapters left in this series, BTW, in case anyone is wondering)! It will be entitled ‘Some Like it Cold’; keep an eye out for it! :)
> 
>  
> 
> Banner courtesy of the lovely Cincoflex! :)

“I don’t think I can do this,” Jane gripes to Doc Allen. “I don’t know why I ever told Darcy I would go.”

She’s supposed to do this ridiculous dance-aerobics thing with Darcy a few hours from now. It doesn’t sound like a big deal, it shouldn’t be a big deal, but frankly, Jane would almost rather be back in The Other’s custody than showcase just how uncoordinated she can be.

“Sounds more like you _won’t_.” Allen points out, his tone mild. 

“Can’t, won’t, what’s the difference?” Jane asks tartly, though it doesn’t visibly offend him.

“So now you think Darcy _isn’t_ onto something, when she says that you need more in your life than just your work.”

Jane shrugs. “No, I wouldn’t say she’s wrong but…dance-aerobics?” She chuckles nervously. “Come _on_.”

“Exercise has been proven to help improve one’s mood.” Allen points out. “In many _scientific_ studies,” he adds, knowing all too well that this will resonate with her.

Jane frowns; yeah, it _is_ hard to argue with that. She gives it her best effort, however. “Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean I have to do _this_ exercise.”

“Maybe not, but do you really see any harm in it?”

His words remind her of Loki saying something similar in an entirely different context not so long ago – and yet, it also feels like _eons_ ago – and Jane can’t help stiffening a little. “Falling flat on my butt for starters. Looking like an idiot, second. Having one of my hallucinations and freaking out in front of everyone, third!” Her voice rises on the last sentence, fists opening and closing restlessly in her lap.

“Darcy will be there,” Allen points out, steepling his hands. “You have a coping strategy of checking with her to see if _she_ sees him. That doesn’t have to change.” He cocks his head, studying her. “You’re also making a lot of assumptions – negative assumptions – about judgments others will have of you.”

Jane sighs. They’ve covered this ground many times before. “I know, I know. I can’t change how other people see me or behave towards me. I can only change my _own_ reactions.” 

“And right now, you’re allowing your negative expectations to keep you from doing something you might potentially enjoy,” he continues. When Jane says nothing, he adds: “Do it once, and see how it is. Consider it an experiment.”

Jane makes a sour face. Allen sure knows how to push her buttons, and even though he’s only doing that because he’s trying to help, it still pisses her off at times. 

“A nice thought, but I don’t think I can,” she argues, fully aware they’ve circled right back to the start.

“Of course you can,” Allen counters. “Nobody’s tied you to your chair. Once you get home and pack your gym bag, point your feet towards the door, put one foot in front of the other, and keep going until you get to the gym.” He smiles.

“You make it sound so simple.”

“It _is_ simple. You didn’t give up when everyone was laughing at you about your ‘crackpot’ scientific theories. But now you’re going to give up before you even start, because you predict – likely wrongly – that people will laugh _again_?” Oh yes, he knows he has her over a barrel now.

Jane rolls her eyes. Bastard. “Fine. But if I break anything, it’s on _you_.”

*~*~*

A few hours later, Jane grudgingly has to admit that this _is_ kind of fun.

It being her first time doing this, she has no clue what she’s doing, but as the teacher is repeating the same sequence of steps at least three times per song, soon enough she’s following along reasonably well. The music is a little pop-y for her taste, but it’s energetic stuff and Jane is soon sweating.

It helps that Darcy wasn’t kidding about those two women who can’t keep a beat. They aren’t even doing the so-called ‘choreography’ at the same time as the rest of the class. But nobody seems to care, which makes Jane feel that much better about her own fumbling efforts.

The teacher herself keeps confusing ‘right’ and ‘left’ – apparently she _often_ does – and soon Jane is grinning as she grapevines one way, then the other, then tries to copy the salsa moves, then does a mambo…

It doesn’t go off completely without a hitch. Just as she feared, at one point Jane sees Loki materialize in the corner of the room, lips curled in a snarl as he advances on her with two daggers raised in his hands.  

She quickly looks away, counting three beats in her head despite the panic constricting her chest, and when she looks back he’s gone. A quick glance to the side reassures her further; Darcy obviously hasn’t noticed any feral Asgardian gods in the class.

Unfortunately, The Other’s evil isn’t quite done with Jane yet. A few minutes later Jane feels Loki’s necklace cinch itself tight around her neck again. That hallucination is much harder to ignore, but luckily it’s the end of a song and everyone is pausing for a few seconds to catch their breath. That makes it less complicated for Jane to bring her hand up and thread her finger between the necklace and her throat. When she feels that in reality the necklace is no tighter than before, immediately the sensation of suffocating vanishes.

Jane grins fiercely in triumph and launches herself into the next dance, a Bollywood-inspired series of moves.

It’s over almost before Jane realizes, which is fine with her. While she’s not as easily exhausted as she was last week, her energy level can still bottom out pretty quickly sometimes. And let’s face it, she’s kind of out of shape.

They cool down and stretch, and afterwards Jane and Darcy walk over to the side of the rapidly-emptying gym to retrieve their water bottles and towels.

“So, did you have fun?” Darcy asks her expectantly.

Jane nods, blotting the sweat from her face. “I did, yes. Thank you for inviting me.” She’ll have to admit to Doc Allen that he was right, but she’s OK with that.

Darcy smirks. “You may not be thanking me when you’re sore tomorrow.”

Jane laughs. “No doubt!”

“But when that happens, just remind yourself of the incredible ass and legs you’ll have after a couple weeks of-” Darcy cuts off in mid-sentence, staring past her. “Uh, _Jane_ -”

Jane raises her face from her towel and turns to look in the same direction. It’s Loki, _again_ , and Jane rolls her eyes and turns back to Darcy. _Three hallucinations in less than an hour, wonderf-_

Darcy is _still_ staring, and Jane blinks in confusion because there’s nobody else in the room except the two of them. Plus the hallucination.

Then the inevitable, awful thought occurs to her. “Is it really-?”

“Yeah, I see him. So either I’m now hallucinating too, or…”

Jane looks again, and yes, Loki is still there, starting to walk slowly towards them, his eyes lowered. He’s wearing his dark suit and appears unarmed, but something is different about him, though Jane isn’t able to figure it out until he is standing right in front of them. _He trimmed his hair,_ she thinks.

He meets her eyes at last, and he looks wary, hesitant, as if he’s afraid she will bolt. 

He _should_ be afraid. Jane can feel white-hot anger roiling inside her, with a generous side-dose of nausea.

“Jane,” he says in a low voice, “I have returned to you, and I wish to-“

Something inside her snaps. “How _dare_ you?” she snarls. Before she can pause to consider the wisdom of such a move, her hand whips out and connects solidly with his left cheek, though the blow barely turns his head. “That’s for leaving me alone to deal with this _shit_. And for unilaterally deciding that we were over, without even fucking giving me a chance to say _anything_. Oh, and _also_ for basically saying that I was nothing more than your _fucktoy_.” She realizes her hand is now stinging and she clutches it to her chest, ending her tirade with an “Ow!” Through it all, Darcy stands frozen beside her, her eyes moving between them like she’s watching a tennis match.

Jane can’t read Loki’s face, it’s like a thousand emotions flicker across it in the space of a breath, before it becomes guarded again. “I recognize that you are angry,” he tries again, his tone now mildly chiding, “but perhaps you could express your ire in a less self-injurious way?”

Jane glares at him, flexing her sore hand. Of course, there hasn’t been an actual _apology_ in anything he’s said so far. The High and Mighty Norse God apparently does not apologize, not even to women he’s dumped. 

Well, she is one woman who is not going to put up with his shit – _any_ of his shit – any longer.

She might normally think of herself as a pacifist, but right this second her inner militant feminist is standing behind a Gatling gun and bracing to fire. “OK, how about this: Fuck. _You_. Loki.” She leans down to grab her water bottle, then straightens up and turns on her heel, striding away in the direction of the locker rooms.

She’s not sure, but she thinks she hears Darcy remark behind her, in a sarcastic tone: “Wow. That was _smooth_.” But Jane doesn’t stop walking until she’s at her locker.

Darcy appears at her side a moment later. “Can you _believe_ that?” Jane sputters, massaging her hand in between whipping off her gym clothes and changing into her jeans and shirt. 

“Jane-“ Darcy says, but Jane isn’t done.

“And here I thought it was more important to defend Asgard. Defend the _universe_ , rather than waste his precious time on little old me.” Jane stuffs her sweaty clothes and towel away in her bag with sharp, agitated motions. “Oh, and let’s not forget, he abandoned me _for my own good_.”

Darcy blinks. “Huh?”

“Yeah, he claimed - before he blipped off - that if we were seen together, Thanos would come after me again. Because leaving me all by myself is ever so much _safer_ ,” Jane mutters scornfully.

“That is some pretty fucked-up logic,” Darcy agrees. She seems about to say something else, but Jane is already turning to leave, so Darcy scrambles to jam her feet into her flats, and follows after her.

Of course, Loki is waiting on the street outside. “My Jane-” he starts.

_ Yep, the word ‘sorry’ apparently isn’t in his vocabulary, _ Jane thinks sourly. “I’m not ‘your Jane’, asshole,” she growls, striding past him as quickly as she can, Darcy still trailing after her like an obedient puppy.

“Please Jane, I am sorry,” he finally pleads as he walks after them, his pace a bit slower than theirs thanks to his longer legs. 

At his words Jane stops in her tracks and turns to glower. She finally has her apology, but it doesn’t make her feel any better. Because: “You’re _sorry_? Gee, and here I thought you didn’t have much use for remorse or guilt, Loki _Lokisson_. Didn’t you call such emotions ‘useless’?” She gives a short, bitter laugh. _Besides, God of Lies, right? He’ll say whatever he thinks he needs to, to get back into my pants._

_ Except, of course, the _ truth.

“Did you really come here expecting that everything would be forgiven, and that I’d be falling over myself to spread my legs for you again? You must really think I’m _stupid_.” Jane turns on her heel and walks briskly away, flushing with combined embarrassment and anger. 

“Not at all-“ he’s trying to say, but Jane stops listening to his bullshit at that point. _Same shit, different day._

For a brief moment she’s stomping down the sidewalk alone, but soon Darcy catches up to her once more. Jane turns a corner, walks a bit further, and then glances behind her. Good, he took the hint. “What a prick,” she mutters. 

At that moment Loki materializes in the doorway of the pet store as they walk by, his face twisted with rage, his body crouched as if he intends to pounce on them both, but Jane is so angry she just scowls at him, and he vanishes as soon as she does. Another hallucination. _Fuck that, too._

“Jane,” Darcy is saying, a little breathless as she tries to match Jane’s frantic pace, “I realize you’re pissed off at him – nobody would blame you for that – but maybe you should at least _hear_ what he has to say?”

Jane stops walking again, this time scowling at Darcy. “Um, _why_? One, he’s never going to tell me about all the stuff I really _want_ to know. Like why he really dumped me. Or why he hates Thor so much that he attacked him with a giant fucking robot in the middle of our town!  And two, whatever he does tell me will probably all be lies, knowing _him_.”

Darcy pauses, and Jane can sense her picking her words carefully, though that only increases Jane’s irritation. “Look, I don’t think I told you this before, but when he came asking for my help, when that bastard of an alien had you…Loki was scared, Jane. He _cared_. I’d bet the entire contents of my iPod on it.”

Jane frowns and shakes her head, and starts walking again. She _so_ does not want to hear this.

“He looked paler than I’d ever seen him, and his voice was _shaking_ , Jane. Nobody is that good of an actor.” Darcy continues, though Jane presses her lips into a hard line and keeps walking. Interesting as all that is, it’s also all in the past. Unless he’s willing to do things differently this time, it’s completely irrelevant. And so far, he’s not off to a good start with her. 

“Look, he’s fucked-up,” Darcy continues stubbornly, keeping pace with Jane. “You and I both know that. Hell, I think the _universe_ knows that-”

“Darcy,” Jane replies grimly, “I know you mean well, and I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m done talking about this.”

Her assistant stifles a sigh and nods. “OK. You know I support you no matter what, right?”

Jane nods but doesn’t answer, her lips still pressed into a thin line as she walks as fast as her tired leg muscles will let her, until they get to the lab.

Another unwelcome thought comes to her. “We should probably let SHIELD know that Loki is back,” she observes reluctantly.

Darcy nods and reaches for her cell phone. “I’ll handle it, OK? You go up to the roof and try to chillax. I’ll bring us up some coffee in a few minutes.”

“Yeah,” Jane agrees. With any luck, SHIELD will set The Hulk on Loki again. Jane would _pay_ to see that.

*~*~*

The next few days are…bizarre, to say the least.

It helps that Jane has Doc Allen to talk to, though as usual he doesn’t offer any solutions. If anything, he and Darcy are drinking the same Kool-Aid, as both of them apparently think she should at least hear Loki out. 

Allen’s approach differs a bit from Darcy’s, however: “You’re a scientist. An empiricist. You look at all the facts. But you can’t have all the facts here, until you hear his side of it.”

_ Maybe talking to Doc Allen isn’t helping  _ that _much._

Erik is probably the only person who agrees with her that she should stay far, far away from Loki. Well, Fury probably does too, though Jane hasn’t spoken to him about it. And Coulson. And probably Tony and Pepper would, too…

However, Loki apparently doesn’t care what Jane or anyone else might want, because Loki has been stalking her again.

At first it’s just that _tingle_ along her nerves when she’s walking along the street. Or a sensation like someone is behind her when she’s sitting on the roof of the lab, but when she gasps and turns to look in the shadows, no one is there.

It reminds her way too much of how they first met. Of how she’d reacted to him then. With attraction and desire? Really? What the hell had been _wrong_ with her?

Maybe she really _had_ been under a spell. Surely that’s the only logical explanation.

At first these incidents make her nervous, then briefly afraid, and then finally, royally pissed off. Because - how _dare_ he?

Oh, and there are also the gifts, appearing from out of nowhere. One day, folded neatly on her chair on the roof of the lab, there appears a large pelt obviously not from any Earth-bound animal, given the strange orange and purple markings on it. _Um,_ no _._

Then there’s the purple stone – an amethyst? Jane wonders – the size of her fist, left for her on the shelf in her locker at the gym one day. She glances around to make sure no one is watching, then shoves it into the bottom of her gym bag for now. Who knows, maybe it’ll be useful to pawn one day.

The thought of Loki watching her as she sweats and fumbles through the steps in dance-aerobics irritates her, but Darcy harangues her endlessly if Jane doesn’t go, so Jane grits her teeth and tries to ignore the hackles raising on the back of her neck.

But the jewel in this _exceedingly_ fucked-up crown is the day, about a week after he first appeared, when she pops into her apartment after a therapy session for some clean clothes and a bag of coffee for the lab. 

She opens her front door, and stops dead with her mouth hanging open. Her apartment is literally, _literally_ filled with pale green roses. They adorn every surface, carpet the floor…and they’re just like the ones he turned the SHIELD guns into when they’d taken her prisoner weeks ago. 

_ Holy. Crap. _ She walks in slowly, crushing untold roses into piles of bruised petals under the soles of her sneakers. How the hell, her ever-practical brain is asking, is she going to manage to clean up the mess once all these roses die? Assuming magical roses _can_ die…

She’s halfway to the kitchen when every single rose explodes silently, petals showering all around her, and when Jane blinks her apartment is back to normal again. Except for one single, pale green rose lying on the upside-down moving box currently serving as a coffee table, and one unwanted Norse god taking up space on her couch.

Jane crosses her arms angrily in front of her. “What the _fuck_ do you want, Loki?” Unless he’s about to lead with: “I will tell you everything. Why I attacked your home town, and why I hate Thor so much,” or “Why I left you alone when you needed me most”, Jane doesn’t give a fuck.

And yet, when he looks up at her, his expression seems so vulnerable that Jane nearly takes a step back in shock. _Could it be he really has changed?_

“I want to harness the power to turn back time, that I may go back and undo all that I said and did that day when I…left you alone.” He swallows convulsively. “But as I lack that power, I must find some other way to win your favour.”

Jane shoves her sympathy aside, rolling her eyes. Of course, he’s never going to willingly tell her what she wants to know. He’s only going to try to pull another of his oh-so-convincing cons. She laughs angrily. “Oh, and so you think stalking me – I can _feel_ you doing it, by the way – is going to ‘win my favour’?”

His brow furrows, though he seems more at a loss than angry. “I am trying to _protect_ you. That requires me to be in proximity to-“

Jane cuts him off. “Rationalize it all you want, Loki. It’s creepy as hell, I don’t like it, and it stops, _now_ , or I’ll tell SHIELD to sic The Hulk on you.” Too late, some tiny part of her brain reminds herself that he’s volatile, and maybe she shouldn’t taunt him?

But he just looks at his hands. “I value you,” he finally says. “And I wish to make certain that what The Other did to you never ever repeats itself. I had thought perhaps that if I left, that would make you less of a target-“

“Yeah, I remember that excuse.” Jane retorts. “You are _so_ full of shit. God of Lies, indeed. Do you even know anymore what the truth is?” That’s the real problem right there, isn’t it?

Another long, silent moment. “The _truth_ is that I made a terrible error in judgment, leaving you here to grapple with your demons by yourself. And I swear by Yggdrasil I will do whatever is necessary to repair matters between us.” He rises to his feet and takes a step towards her, hand outstretched, his expression turning despondent when Jane responds by taking three precise steps backward.

“If you do not trust my words, then trust my actions.” He takes a deep breath. “I am your most humble servant, Lady Jane Foster of Midgard,” he continues, formally if cumbersomely. “I am at your command. Name it, and it will be done.”

She could probably order him to tell her the truth, but what would be the point? He won’t, so for now she’ll settle for getting him off her goddamned back. “Stop stalking me and leaving me gifts, then,” Jane snarls. “I’m not the type of woman you can ‘buy’ with presents. In fact, I _command_ you to stop.”

With that, she turns on her heel and leaves, slamming the apartment door behind her. With any luck, he’ll get bored of this and leave. Or maybe he’ll get desperate enough to give her what she really wants?

_ But he’ll probably be lying anyway, _ the negative little voice reminds her, and Jane shakes her head in frustration.

Too late, it occurs to her that she should’ve also ordered him to get his damned _collar_ off her damned neck. Oops. But she refuses to turn around now. She’d feel too much like his supplicant, and that’s also a non-starter.

She neither sees nor senses his presence for a few days, and that’s completely perfect. Darcy looks faintly disappointed when Jane fills her in on what has happened, and Erik jubilant, but either way Jane doesn’t care. She wants off this fucking roller-coaster, right about _now_.

But sadly, it’s not to be, and Jane is not really surprised when Loki shows up in her dreams instead. Again, it reminds her all too strongly of the early days of their…whatever it was they’d had. 

She rolls her eyes and scowls at him, folding her arms across her chest. “Oh, let me guess. I specified that you needed to stop stalking me, but since I didn’t say _everywhere_ , you figured ‘dream-stalking’ was still on the table?”

In her dream, she’s lying on her deck chair on the roof of the lab, though the constellations hanging above them in the night sky are unfamiliar to her. Asgardian, maybe?

“Can you not understand?” he asks in a low tone, ignoring her question. “I believed I was endangering you.”

“Yeah, and you were very convincing, Snake-Tongue,” Jane replies sardonically. _This shit again. Yawn._

“Oh, speaking of ‘endangering’, I want _this_ off. Now,” she snarls, pointing at the snake necklace.

He blinks, before his features take on a stubborn cast that Jane is annoyed to be this familiar with. “It is there to protect you. I set various spells on it-“

“Always an excuse, huh?” she interrupts. She should’ve _known_ he’d balk at actually giving her anything she wants. 

Which is the whole problem in a nutshell, isn’t it?

This is such a waste of her time. It doesn’t matter whether it’s regarding the truth she needs to hear, the stalking, or getting his damned chain off her neck. He’s not going to change. “If that’s all you got, I’m going back to sleep,” she informs him, giving him the most contemptuous glare she can muster.

He shimmers into nothing and Jane laughs. _Still the coward,_ she thinks unkindly.

The next night is a near-perfect repetition, except this time he attempts a new unwelcome approach. “Did I not please you, Jane?”

She grits her teeth. She should’ve known he’d try _this_. She’s tempted to lie and tell him he _sucked,_ that among all the lovers she’s had (which isn’t all that many, but it’s not like he would know), he was by far the _worst_. But then she decides that she won’t lower herself to his level. _He_ ’s the liar, not her. 

“Yes you did, at the time. But maybe I want _more_ than that now.”

He stands there silently for a long moment. She can barely read his face in the flicker of the firepot, not that she really cares to look all that closely.

“Maybe,” he replies finally, “I am ready at last to give more to you.”

Jane is startled into laughing loudly, and Loki’s face takes on a wounded look. _He’s hurt?_ _Yeah_ right. _The consummate actor_ , she thinks.

“Really?” she retorts. “ _Prove_ it.”

He blinks several times. “How can I do so, my Lady? Especially as you refuse to give me any opportunity to speak to you, or to even linger near to you-“

She curls her lip at him, exasperated. She could lay it all out for him, the things she wants to hear from him, but what would be the point? He’ll do what he’s always done – stonewall. Or lie. Instead, she throws at him something familiar from countless boring rom-coms Darcy has dragged her to over the years: “Not my problem. If you can’t figure it out, Loki, then you’re not ready.”

His next words are surprisingly petulant. “But I do not know how to proceed. I have never attempted to court a woman of Midgard.”

“Also not my problem,” she replies haughtily, turning on her side and pulling her blanket up to her shoulders. The pelt he left her days ago lies crumpled and forgotten by the side of the chair, both in her dream and in reality. 

On the spur of the moment she decides to take a little pity in him: “Though I will give you _one_ hint. Lying to the person you are…involved with, is _not_ cool. Which includes lies of omission, by the way. We Midgardian women tend to frown on that. ” She flings the words back at him over her shoulder.

Again there is a long weighty silence, with only the whistle of wind and the muted crackles and pops of the fire to fill the space between them. 

“If I had told you everything from the beginning,” he asks abruptly, so quietly she has to strain to hear him, “would you still have chosen to be with me?”

Jane rolls her eyes again. _Stonewalling. Just like I predicted._ “Well, you’ll never know, will you?” she responds tartly. She waves a dismissive hand over her shoulder at him. “Stop stalking my dreams, Loki. It’s just as creepy as real-life stalking. You’re not going to gain any points for making a pest of yourself. You’re smart, so figure it out.”

When she glances back over her shoulder, he’s vanished from her dream again. 

A few more days go by, and there are no more _tingles_ along her spine, or unwanted Norse gods invading her home or her dreams. 

_ Did he just give up? _ she wonders. _Figures. That just proves how little he really wanted me back._

She’s relieved, but also faintly disappointed. She sighs at her mixed feelings, resolving to discuss them with Doc Allen tomorrow morning.

*~*~*

Loki concentrates hard, enough to cause a mild pulse of pain to go through his temples. 

He cannot comprehend how or why Jane is so sensitive to his presence, and it takes much more effort than usual for him to cloak himself so completely that she does not ‘feel’ him.

Because he has in fact  _ not _ left her side. He can hardly protect her effectively otherwise, can he? Thor would no doubt concur.

So despite her express wishes, he continues to follow her. He hovers restlessly in the hallway while she talks to the mind-healer. He does not listen, partly because he is sure that it would fuel Jane’s ire if she knew, and partly because he is uncomfortably certain they are discussing  _ him_. 

He dogs her footsteps as she returns to her abode for clothing, or to that food vendor whose building the Destroyer ruined these many months past, or to the training facility where she and Lady Darcy engage in that unusual dancing. 

In truth, it is no hardship to watch _that_. He rather enjoys observing Jane’s confidence grow with each session, the music is interesting, and of course the movements of her hips and body are utterly alien and fascinating, if not at times outright sensual. 

Of course, he also guards the rooftop of her laboratory while she sleeps, watching over her and whomever happens to be with her that evening. Usually it is Lady Darcy, but occasionally it is Selvig. Despite himself, Loki’s spine stiffens whenever Selvig is with Jane, though it is obvious that the older Midgardian loves Jane like a daughter. Even given his history with Selvig, Loki knows he should be appreciative of the Midgardian’s efforts to help her.

As he watches, he considers Jane’s words to him in the dream. How can he prove his devotion to her? He is the God of Lies, all know this. If he were to sit her down and tell her the full unvarnished truth, assuming she would even deign to listen, would she even credit his words?

She is not impressed, evidently, with his desire to protect her. Nor with the gifts he has procured for her. But he does not know what else to do. He has no frame of reference, as he has admitted to her in full honesty, for courting her kind.

He can only look to his own past, to his relationships with Asgardian women, brief as all of them had been. Women who had been in awe of his title, his proximity to the throne, his magic…

Loki shakes his head, frowning. What he knows of Asgardian women probably does not apply to Jane Foster. Even if it did, he has no title or claim, however distant, to Asgard’s throne any longer, unless he can somehow convince Odin to forgive him. But Loki will not do that, not even to entice Jane. 

His magic might interest her, intrigue her scientific mind, but that is where it ends. He is sure it will not fascinate her enough to erase the sins he has committed. 

He remembers thinking long ago that he has little to offer Jane – no palace, no country, no Realm - really, all he can offer her is pleasure. Which now is apparently not enough.

He supposes he could speak to her of his love, but besides the fact that she will no doubt disbelieve him, it is still not simple for him to admit he feels such for her. As he said to Thor in Asgard, love has given him little.

Still, he cannot bear the thought that their ‘arrangement’ is over, and all because of one foolish act on his part.

So he watches, and he schemes. 

After another Midgardian day or so, he realizes in the middle of observing Jane and Darcy that perhaps he has an ally  _there_. Darcy had thrown him an exasperated, disappointed look after his first failed attempt to apologize to Jane. Then, when he had sent his awareness after them, Lady Darcy had seemed to be trying to convince Jane to give him a chance to speak. 

Perhaps he should ask her how he could go about earning Jane’s forgiveness.

This time, he knocks at the door of Darcy’s abode. Never let it be said that Loki of Asgard is a slow learner.

She opens it and blinks, though she does not seem terribly surprised to see him. “Oh, it’s you,” she says flatly. “What do you want, Loki?”

“Help,” he says succinctly. “I have little knowledge of how to court Midgardian women. You are a friend to Jane, and of course a Midgardian woman.” He attempts to smile, but it feels uncomfortable on his face. Lady Darcy has helped him in the past, yes, but he is well-aware she might feel there is little reason to aid him now.

Darcy rolls her eyes, but steps back and motions him in.

Her abode is not even as large as Jane’s, though it is also partly filled with cubes of stiff paper that Loki now recognizes as being ‘moving boxes’. At his curious look, Darcy explains: “I was packing up to move to New York, to work on the Stark-Foster project with Jane, before…” Darcy waves her hand in a vague motion, “the whole alien Guantanamo Bay thing happened to her.”

Loki does not understand the reference, but her meaning is clear enough. “She no longer looks to her stars,” he says. It isn’t a question, though Darcy nods and looks despondent.

She sighs. “One problem at a time,” she answers, straightening her shoulders as if she is brushing the weight of that particular difficulty away for now. “You said you need help?” she asks pointedly.

“Yes. Tell me how I can best win back Jane’s favour.” He wanders over to her seating area and avails himself of the two-seat piece of furniture with a horrendous floral pattern on it.

Darcy rolls her eyes as she follows him, though she remains standing. “Where do I _begin_ , Loki? One, don’t stalk us. Two, don’t stalk her dreams– yeah, she told me about that, dude – either. Three,” she takes a deep breath, “stop acting like such a dickwad.”

Loki glares at her in wrath, half-rising from his seat before he even realizes he’s doing so. “How _dare_ you-“

Darcy folds her arms and meets him glare for glare. “Uh, you came to me for help, so shut the fuck up. If you want any chance at getting Jane back, you need to put on your big-boy panties and sit and _listen_ to what I have to say. And if you feel like throwing a little _tantrum_ because of it, you can just get right the hell out of my place first.”

Loki glowers at her for an interminable moment, during which he can easily sense the nervousness she is fighting to hide. Reluctantly he admits to himself that he admires her spirit; she is not much different from Jane in that respect. Clearly, Midgardian women are strong in will, if not of flesh.

He lowers himself slowly back to a seated position, pressing his hand over his forehead. “I’m sorry,” he says ruefully. “I am…not as in control of my emotions as I would wish.”

“Gee, ya think?” Darcy remarks tartly and rather unwisely, but Loki only shakes his head, brow furrowed painfully. How low has he sunk, that a mere mortal’s words can move him to such unreasoning anger?

“I wish to change that. I am _trying_ to change that. So I must ask for your patience, as I will ask for Jane’s, if she deigns to give me a second opportunity. So speak freely, Lady Darcy.”

Darcy hesitates, then moves to sit next to him. 

Loki smiles faintly, her last accusation flashing through his mind. “Perhaps we could begin by you informing me how I can stop being a ‘dickwad’, as you put it?”

“Talk to her. _Honestly_.” Darcy says firmly.

“I tried that,” Loki replies, bitterness colouring his voice against his will. “She calls me God of Lies – which I am, of course – and refuses to listen.”

“It didn’t help your case that you basically insulted her after she hit you,” Darcy points out. “And she’s fairly convinced this whole ‘I-left-to-defend-Asgard, and by the way it-was-best-for-you-anyway’ thing is complete B.S.” She pauses, her gaze assessing him shrewdly from behind the two panes of glass she wears. “It _is_ B.S., right?”

Loki hasn’t the faintest idea what ‘B.S.’ is, but he gathers from her manner that it is roughly equivalent to lying. “Yes and no,” he agrees slowly. “I believed it myself at the time, but…” he shrugs helplessly.

“Then you need to talk to her about the real reasons. And I also know there’s a few things you’ve been withholding from her – like why you’re so pissed off at your family – which I’ll bet would gain major brownie points with her, if you told her the full story.” At his uneasy look, Darcy adds: “Look, you need to…make yourself vulnerable. Show her that you really want to make changes, that you want things to be different, that you’ll _trust_ her with things that are difficult for you. That you’ll be more…open. I think that’s all she wants, really.”

Loki nods, even as he despairs at her words. True, Jane has not betrayed him, not like his supposed ‘family’ has, but exposing himself in such a way, even to people with no particular reason to use or hurt him _terrifies_ him at some deep level he scarcely feels comfortable acknowledging.

Can he show Jane his true face? Even to repair matters between them? 

He is not certain of the answer.

“I will give great thought to your words,” he says gravely to her. “Though I still remain curious as to what the proper courtship behaviours are among you Midgardians. Surely having such knowledge can only help, now and in the future.”

Darcy scratches her head, thinking. “Well, that’s easy enough to teach you about.” She rises and beckons him to follow her, leading him across the tiny living space to a small table with one of the machines Midgardians call ‘computers’ sitting on it.

She gestures for him to drag over a chair from the kitchen table, as she settles herself in front of the device, tapping a few keys. 

“Let me introduce you to your new best friend,” she says. “The Internet.”

*~*~*

Loki leaves Lady Darcy’s abode with new hope lightening his mood. After an hour or so, she had apologized, saying she needed to join Jane at the lab for the evening, but she had invited him to stay and continue using the ‘Internet’, with one caveat:

“Do not, I repeat, _not_ type the word ‘porn’ into Google.”

He’d blinked at her. “Why would I?” 

But she’d only shaken her head and stared him down. “Good. And I’ll be checking my Internet history tomorrow, so that better not be one of your lies, or I am _so_ ratting you out to Jane. Mark my words.”

Trying not to smirk – was she really threatening him? It was all rather amusing - Loki had set his hand over his heart. “I swear by Yggdrasil, Lady Darcy.”

She’d watched him suspiciously for one long moment, then nodded. “Fine. And it’s just Darcy.”

“Very well, Darcy. May you and Jane have pleasant slumbers.”

For now, Loki magicks himself into the desert to check his warning-spells as has become his daily habit, his mind filled with new information. Oh, no one had a definitive answer on how one apologizes to a Midgardian woman, but one word he’d seen a few times had given him a new strategy.

_ Marriage_. 

He examines the warning-spells methodically, including the newest ones he set upon his return from Asgard. As usual there is no sign of anything unusual, so he goes back to his previous line of thinking.

He does not know why such a simple solution has not occurred to him before. Even in Asgard, though many women had been pleased just to be able to say they’d shared the bed of the Prince (sometimes, _both_ Princes, if not precisely at the same moment), many more had quite obviously desired a longer-term commitment.

To be a Princess, even if one was not destined to be the future Queen of Asgard, surely was a tempting prize. At least that was what he’d gleaned while spying on the many gatherings of court ladies over the years, before such gossip had become boring to him.

Satisfied, he magicks himself to the rooftop of the lab, arriving just as Darcy greets a sleepy Jane and settles herself into the vacant chair next to their fire. Even hidden by illusion, Loki stays in the shadows, watching over the both of them.

Of course, as he’d noted earlier, he has little to offer Jane now. No land, no castle, no princely title. Let alone an entire Realm.

_ But, has such  _ ever _mattered to her?_ Seemingly not. She’d known enough about his unsavoury history, before they had even begun their 'arrangement', to realize how little he actually had to offer. Even hearing Thor’s accusations as they fought, or his confession to Fury, none of it had seemed to dissuade her from being with him. Until he had so childishly run from her.

Perhaps, as some of the so-called ‘websites’ had suggested, she is now looking for some sort of ‘commitment’ from him. Had she not said as much, when she’d claimed that she wanted ‘more’ from him now? Surely that is an invitation to bring matters to another level. Certainly a proposal of marriage will serve as an indication that he is truly serious about repairing things, of making amends? 

It also occurs to him that the things he’d spied Darcy and Jane watching on that flickering entertainment box from time to time seemed to suggest that, just as in Asgard, many Midgardian women are interested in marriage.

He will need some sort of ring, apparently, but that is of little import. The easiest of matters to resolve.

Loki ponders next when and how to approach her, listening with half an ear as Darcy tries to convince Jane to accompany her to a musician’s performance at a ‘club’ in a nearby town. 

At first Jane attempts to demur, but Darcy is insistent that Jane continue to try new things. As Jane finally agrees, Loki smiles in the darkness. It feels good to be _plotting_ again, rather than adrift.

It is a risk, of course, to ask for her hand. She may well say no, but very few of his schemes have ever been entirely without risk. If she refuses, then he is no worse off than now. Perhaps it is even possible she will initially deny him, but the seed will have been planted and she may well acquiesce later. 

If nothing else, perhaps it will at least give her pause, enough to tempt her to finally _listen_ to him. Though he still finds himself shying away from the thought of revealing the entire truth to her.

With any luck, she will not only say yes, but she will be so overcome by his gesture that she will no longer doubt him. Thus she will no longer require that he give up all his secrets, especially if they are not relevant to their relationship?

Oh, it will likely change matters between them in some fashion, of course. But it is a small price to pay, to regain that which Loki so carelessly tossed away. He gathers his power into himself and magicks himself silently away to the desert again. Once there, he seats himself in the cool sand and slowly weaves together the threads of magic he will need, to create a suitable adornment to offer.

*~*~*

The venue Darcy brings Jane to the next night  is vaguely interesting to Loki. He is more accustomed to watching musicians perform in either the vast throne room in Asgard, or in much smaller private performances for the royal family alone. So this setting, which is small and somehow intimate yet public at the same time, intrigues him.

The music on its own would fascinate in its sheer difference from Asgardian pieces. He thinks he remembers Darcy referring to it as ‘alt rock’ music, whatever in Yggdrasil _that_ is. One thing Loki quickly discovers though, is that it is _loud_ , so loud one has to shout to be heard. With difficulty, he manages to hear Darcy saying vociferously to Jane that she sees an opening at the bar, so this may be a good time to go get some drinks.

Jane has an expression on her face as if she has tasted something sour as she looks around the place, and Loki can read from her body language alone how out-of-place and awkward she feels here. 

Hanging back, Loki watches the other Midgardians. Many sit at tables, drinking and talking, others listening to the musicians. A large group of Midgardians, both women and men, are in front of the stage cheering the musicians on and performing strange motions that seem to be some kind of dance, but which look to Loki’s eyes more like somewhat rhythmic flailing. Though he is far more accustomed to the formal, precise dances of the Asgardian court, the chaos of the throng appeals to him at some deep level, and he smiles.

Many of the flailing women are scantily clad, though Loki is not interested in sparing them much more than a passing, curious glance; he may as well be looking at art on a wall. 

He already has his mate in mind.

At a long counter on the other end of the large, reverberating room, Jane and Darcy are rapidly downing tiny glasses of clear fluid. Three each, one after the other. No doubt it’s another type of their weak Midgardian alcohol. Pitiable. Loki is not even slightly tempted to follow suit himself.

He is not surprised that they are serving alcoholic beverages in such a setting. Asgardian dances and performances are not much different; a little ale always loosens both the joints and the inhibitions.

Darcy tries to urge Jane to join the group in front of the stage, but Jane resists, and after a moment Darcy shrugs and steers Jane to an empty table. 

Loki continues to wait, choosing his moment. Although the ways she has limited herself recently – eschewing her stars and her lab, avoiding her home – sadden him, he _is_ pleased that she is seeing the mind-healer, and that she is doing activities for recreation that he knows she does not normally engage in. He will need to thank Darcy for that.

Eventually Darcy wanders off to join the group at the stage herself, leaving Jane alone at their table nursing yet another beverage, and Loki smiles. With a motion of his hand he allows himself to become visible. His armour would be entirely unsuitable here, so he makes himself appear to be wearing a dark green shirt, half unbuttoned, though he retains his accustomed black leather pants and boots. Neither are too unseemly here, judging by what the Midgardians are wearing.  

He glides to Jane’s side and leans to her ear. “May I avail myself of that seat?”

Jane whirls to face him, nearly falling off the tall stool she is seated on, the astonishment on her face quickly shading to anger. “You! I told you to stop stalking me, didn’t I, Loki?” Her gaze moves past him to where Darcy is, as if she is attempting to silently signal the other woman.

“And I have,” Loki lies smoothly. Some truths are better left hidden. He seats himself on the unoccupied stool. “You told me, as I’m sure you recall, to ‘figure it out’. I believe that I  _ have_. A means to prove to you that I wish to do things differently, if I am given a second opportunity.”

Jane looks entirely unconvinced, though she relaxes marginally as Darcy appears next to their table. Loki pretends he doesn’t notice the warning look Darcy sends his way.

Before either woman can question him further, Loki winks at Darcy, sliding off the stool and dropping to one knee in front of Jane. 

It is a simple act to spin a sort of cocoon around the three of them, both muting the loud music and effectively hiding them from the attentions of others for the time being. 

Loki reaches out, gently grasping Jane’s cold hand, and her eyes widen almost comically when Loki proudly produces from his pocket the fruit of his efforts in the desert last night: a gold ring, twin to the torc he gave her, enameled in black and green. Except this one has twin snake heads, each with two tiny emeralds for eyes, gripping a fifth and much larger jewel in their jaws. It’s not the traditional Midgardian diamond, as he keeps none of those in his pocket dimension, and he doubts Jane would look kindly on him stealing one, but it is an Asgardian gem of similar sheen and colour.

He glances up at her throat automatically, though she is currently wearing a scarf over his torc. Well, he can hardly fault her for hiding it, especially given her current (but hopefully soon to change) opinion of him.

“L-loki, what the  _ hell _ are you-” she finally stutters, her voice nearly a whisper, as if he has stolen her breath.

“I am asking for your hand in marriage, Jane Foster of Midgard. I made a… _ horrific _ error in judgment, leaving you as I did, and I am truly sorry for the pain I caused you. In all honesty, I convinced myself at the time that the greater hurt would be to stay with you, but now I know that notion to be false.”

He pauses to take a breath, his gaze captured by her stunned expression. “And I wish not only to…reinstate what we had before, but to take it even further.” He pauses again, struggling for the correct words. It is rare for his ‘silver tongue’ to be stymied, but he finds it too difficult, even at this fragile juncture, to say that he loves her. 

_ What has love ever gained me? _

Instead, he continues his proclamation with: “You are of the utmost importance to me, and I am serious about engaging in a  _ true _ relationship with you.” He pauses yet again to moisten his suddenly dry throat. “Can you not see, that I cannot abide being without you?” 

He has set his cards – well,  _ most  _ of them – on the table. When Jane says nothing for what feels like eternity, however, he adds: “It is now up to you, Jane Foster of Midgard, to decide if you believe me enough to trust me or not.”

They are all frozen, a tableau in the center of a whirlwind of tumult and noise.

Then Jane slowly shakes her head and pulls her hand from his, and the spell is broken.

“You don’t  _ get  _ it, Loki.”

He blinks, fighting to hide his irritation as he lets his hand drop back to his side. His other hand presses tightly around the ring.

Taking a slow breath, Jane continues: “There is no way in hell that I am ready to marry you. First - maybe you didn’t get the memo - but here on Earth, we  _ date _ first.”

Before Loki can ask her what precisely that means – he saw it mentioned in many places on Darcy’s ‘Internet’, but he had not bothered to pursue it – Jane barrels on: “Second, while I know that I told you that I wanted ‘more’, this is  _ not _ the gesture I was referring to. I gave you a _hint_ , for God’s sake. Remember? This isn’t even close, Loki.”

He rises slowly to his feet, despair causing him to cast a disappointed look at Darcy. Her eyes meeting his, the mortal growls: “Don’t blame me for this. This is _not_ what I told you to do. There’s some big secrets you’ve been keeping. Maybe, I don’t know, you should lead with _those_? It’s time to man up, Loki.”

Jane casts a stunned look at Darcy before grabbing her by the arm. “We’re leaving,” she says flatly to both of them. “Don’t follow us, either,” she hisses back at Loki as she pulls Darcy away.

He allows the magical bubble around the three of them to collapse, the beat of the music rattling his bones once more.

Loki closes his eyes and shakes his head. Of  _ course_, his clever little Midgardian would not fall for his ploy. He should have expected as much.

Now there truly is only one path left to him. He sighs mournfully and straightens his shoulders, magicking himself back into the desert while the mortals around him remain oblivious. 

He will wait until he judges the moment right to make his final attempt at reconciliation.

*~*~*

Jane is barely able to wait until they are sitting in the Pinzgauer, before she turns on Darcy. “What the _hell_ was that? Did you put him up to it, Darcy?”

“Um, _no_ ,” Darcy says flatly, looking deeply offended by Jane’s accusation. “Look, Jane, he came to see me the other day-”

Jane’s eyes widen until they ache. “ _What_?”

Darcy looks Jane square in the eyes. “For help.” she continues. “He wanted to know what to do to get on your good side. I did _not_ tell him to propose to you, that was his own batshit crazy idea. No, I told him that I’d heard he was keeping secrets – bigass secrets – from you, and I suggested that he open up about those. And he wanted to know more about the ‘courtship habits of Midgardians’, so I pointed him to the Internet.” Darcy sighs and slips her glasses off, rubbing tiredly at the bridge of her nose. “I should’ve known unleashing the Trickster god on the Internet would be a bad idea.”

Jane is speechless for a few seconds, before her voice comes back at last. “I don’t understand why you’re helping him, Darcy. I thought you were on my side-”

“I _am_ on your side,” Darcy retorts hotly. “But you’re not fucking _listening_ , Jane. I told you he was _terrified_ when he came to me. When The Other had you? Anybody with half a brain would’ve realized in that second that he’s in love with you, Jane! Are you telling me it really makes any kind of sense to your super-logical brain that he’d go running to Thor for help, race across space to rescue you…and then _dump_ you?”

Jane shakes her head, stunned voiceless all over again, but Darcy isn’t finished. “If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have bothered. No, he would’ve laughed as he teleported his sorry ass out to the other end of the galaxy. No, what makes a lot _more_ sense, is that he is so messed up that when he realized he loved you, he got even more scared, and ran the fuck away.” Darcy grabs Jane’s shoulder, giving her a little shake. “Doesn’t it?” Darcy asks insistently.

Reluctantly, Jane nods slowly. It _does_ make sense.

“The thought that he actually might _care_ for somebody scared the crap out of him, and he just needed some time alone to get his head on straight about it,” Darcy goes on firmly. “And he did – hopefully – and now he’s back.” She stops, releasing Jane and looking at her sympathetically. “I’m not saying he’s got nothing to answer for, and that you should just take him back no questions asked. I think he does need to prove himself by being more open with you. But, c’mon Jane, you’re not even giving him a _chance_.” Darcy crosses her arms, now looking stern.

Jane sighs and starts the car at last. “Why can’t I find myself a nice, stable, emotionally-healthy person-” Her words freeze in her throat as she glances in her rear-view mirror and spots Loki gazing at her in poisonous hatred from the back seat. But she looks away, counts slowly to three, and when she looks back the hallucination is gone.

Darcy snorts, not aware of what just happened with Jane. “Yeah, good luck with that. I don’t think even you or I fit _that_ description.”

Jane has to laugh at that, if a little wryly. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

*~*~*

A few hours later Jane finds herself pacing in her apartment. This is probably the longest amount of time she’s spent here in _weeks_ , and she feels on edge just being here, but somehow the thought of confronting Loki on the rooftop of the lab – which has come to be a sort of oasis for her - doesn’t appeal at all.

Finally she sighs and stops pacing, closing her eyes. “Loki,” she says, barely a decibel louder than she usually speaks.

She feels it a heartbeat later, a whisper of magic brushing across her senses. Then he’s there, sitting on her couch in his usual Asgardian armour and looking up at her warily.

“You need to tell me the truth, Loki,” she says, interrupting him just as he starts to speak. It’s time for the direct approach. He could still be lying, of course, but she has to take that chance. There’s no other way to move forward. “We’ll start with why you left me here all alone. No more lies, no more tricks. If you want ‘us’ to work, that’s the way things have to be from now on. You can still be the God of Lies, but _not_ with me. Period.”

He nods slowly, closing his eyes and pressing his hand to his forehead as he sits there for a long moment. “Lady Darcy has the right of it,” he finally says quietly. Jane wonders how he knows what Darcy thinks, though she suspects it has something to do with spying on them. _One issue at a time, though_. 

“I was…” he goes on, his words hesitant. “When The Other took you, I felt so much fear, and…guilt. I blamed myself for it taking you, for the pains it caused you. I was negligent, derelict in my protection of you, and you suffered greatly as a result.”

He looks up at her, his expression bleak. “It _was_ partially true what I told you, that I thought Thanos would leave you be if I was elsewhere; I did not want you to suffer again on my account.” He shakes his head and is silent for another long moment before continuing. “But…I admit that also I did not wish to suffer the pain of thinking that you were injured or… worse. Of having to face again the uncertainty of not knowing where you were or what was happening to you. Especially given I judged myself responsible.” His pale fingers knot themselves tightly together in front of him. 

“I understand, Loki,” Jane answers, and it’s true, she does understand. “But you should have talked to me about how you felt. Not just up and _dumped_ me.”

“I know,” he says, his eyes bent on his fidgeting hands. “I believe now that you are the sole woman I’ve ever truly cared for so deeply …and yet, I’ve made so many grievous errors. What can I do to prove my devotion to you?” He looks up at her again, though his expression is guarded.

Jane blinks. She wasn’t expecting that particular pronouncement from him. _Maybe he really is ready to open up?_ “You can explain to me why caring about someone else scares you so much.”

He drops his eyes, saying nothing at first. Jane can practically feel the seconds tick by. “I can only guess,” she prods gently, “that it has something to do with Asgard. With your family. But you haven’t really told me anything personal about yourself up til now, so I can’t be sure.”

Loki looks up at her again, then reaches cautiously for her hand. When she sets her hand into his, he draws her gently down on the couch next to him, though his attention seems to be far away as he raises her hand to his lips for a soft kiss.

He cradles her hand in both of his, taking a breath that seems slow and shaky to Jane’s ears. Then he starts: “It began when Odin announced his intention to crown Thor King of Asgard…”

Jane listens without a single interruption for over an hour as Loki unfurls the whole tale. His scheme to delay – only delay! - Thor’s ascension to the throne. Discovering by accident that he is not Asgardian, that in fact he is a Frost Giant. Seeing his chance to prove himself a loyal son of Asgard once and for all. And then, in sheer desperation and madness, doing whatever he felt he needed to do to put an end to the nightmare of his true identity: Set Laufey up so Loki could halt an attempt on Odin’s life and play the valiant hero (for once), destroy Jotunheim so that he could end that threat forever, and send the Destroyer after Thor so that Loki’s plans would not go awry. 

At last Loki falls silent, his hand limp and oddly cold around hers. Or is that her imagination only? She wonders. 

She takes a moment to mull everything over, fitting all the puzzle pieces together. What he just told her explains what she overheard him telling Thor, back when the two brothers fought that day behind her trailer, about Loki not being Asgardian. And it also – finally – explains why he reacted with such tension when Jane had called him a ‘bastard’ so long ago. Of course he’d see himself as illegitimate, given his true heritage. 

“Thank you for explaining all that to me. I don’t know if I can _condone_ everything you did, but…I do understand it. Like your scheme to make Thanos think you were his ally.”

Loki’s shoulders slump, his chin dropping to his chest as if a weight has come off of his shoulders. His voice, however, has a hard edge to it when he speaks. “I did the best I could, given the circumstances. I admit, the blame is mine, and yet…had Odin raised me differently, would any of this have taken place? I have my doubts.”

Jane shakes her head, not wanting to argue that point with him. She only has his side of the story, after all. 

But she does feel empathy for him and what he’s gone through. “Possibly,” she concedes. “I mean, your real father left you for dead, and then you felt like your adopted father left you by falling into this ‘Odinsleep’.” Then she has to smile. “Sounds like you and I both have abandonment issues; I wonder what Doc Allen will say about that?” Loki is looking over at her curiously, though, so she leaves that thought for the moment and goes on: “I don’t know that I would have handled it any better. Well, if I had the magic and power you do, anyway.”

Loki shakes his head slightly, taking a deep breath. “But, to answer your original question, Jane, as to why caring for someone else is so difficult…” He pauses, swallowing with difficulty. “I loved them all, you know. Odin, Frigga, Thor. But Odin and Frigga lied to me my whole life, and Thor…” He stops speaking again for long seconds. “It is difficult now not to hate him as much as I once loved him. He was always so easily able to win the love and admiration of others, for seemingly doing nothing other than being who and what he is. I always craved that acceptance for myself. And that was before I realized how much an outcast I really am.” he admits, his voice almost inaudible by the end.

His gaze meets hers again, his hand slowly rising to touch her cheek with light, cold fingers. “But _you_ accepted me. Perhaps you did not know what I really was, no, but you had some notion of the _things_ I had done. And that I had nothing of worth to offer you, beyond…companionship. But you still wanted to be with me, regardless.” His fingers trail down her cheek and neck, stopping just above the edge of the necklace, and Jane can’t help a shiver. “Perhaps most importantly, you’ve never lied to me,” he adds, voice softer.

Jane furrows her brow, trying to think as his frigid hand drops to her shoulder, his eyes locked on her face. “I don’t know about _never_ ,” she admits. “Maybe a white lie here or there. But about anything big or important? No. That’s just not… _me_.”

A ghost of a smile crosses his lips. “I know.”

“And you’re right, I don’t care whether you’re a prince or not, or what you can _do_ for me. Or give me. I just want to know _you_.”

There’s that mild flicker of amusement on his face once again. “I know that, too.”

Jane slips out from under the gentle weight Loki’s hand, getting up and starting to pace once more as she considers how much she can ask of him. She does appreciate him telling her the truth at last, but there’s at least one last elephant in the room (that she knows of, anyway).

“I want to see,” she says finally, haltingly.

Loki’s eyebrows pull together in confusion. “See what, my Jane?”

She turns and looks him full in the face. “You said you’re a Frost Giant – a Jotun – and that your appearance right now is an illusion created by Odin.” She takes a breath. “I want to see your real face.”

He’s right, she had accepted him, and she’s willing to accept him again now. _All_ of him.

His face hardens abruptly, mouth pulling down in a frown. “This _is_ my real face.”

Jane holds up a placating hand. “But it’s not. You told me it’s all illusion-“

“Perhaps at first, but this illusion has become my truth,” he says, his voice roughening in a way that triggers unpleasant memories from her days of torture. “My true heritage is entirely inconsequential. I was raised Asgardian, and I _am_ Asgardian, in every way that matters. In any case, it has no relevance at all to _us_.”

“Loki, please. I asked you to be straight with me,” Jane says as firmly as she can.

But Loki is rising jerkily to his feet, his mouth pressed into a hard line, other lines carved deep into his forehead and his shoulders tense. He shakes his head and advances on her, stopping only when Jane stumbles back reflexively. 

“This _is_ my true face. The only face that matters. And if you have any care left for me at all, you will leave me that one thing.” His voice is almost inaudible, his eyes shimmering, and Jane watches dumbfounded as a single tear traces its slow way down his pale cheek.

Jane opens her mouth to answer, stepping towards him to comfort him if she can, but there’s that whisper of magic again, and he’s gone before she can take another step.

“Crap!” Jane says out loud to the empty apartment. _This is becoming a habit of his._ She seat-drops onto the couch, propping her chin on her hands.

Too late she realizes: _Just because I might be ready to accept all aspects of him, doesn’t mean_ Loki _is ready!_

Jane sighs, not sure where to go from here.

*~*~*

Back in the desert, Loki hurls a few colourful curses in Old Norse into the breeze, kicking angrily at the sand.

Such foolishness, thinking that the universe would, for once, allow him an easy path to happiness. 

Despair floods into him, washing away the anger as he realizes he may well lose Jane over this. She’s made it clear that if he wants his second opportunity, he must yield to her rules. 

But he has made an attempt, has he not? Should _that_ not be enough? He supposes he could argue the point with her.

Still, should giving her a glimpse of his ‘true’ face be so difficult? 

It should _not_ be, and yet, the thought of stripping away the mask, of showing her the self that he would rather not claim ownership of…it seems impossible. He would rather attempt to move Midgard from its accustomed path through space with his bare hands!

It is one thing to display his Jotun self before his un-family, who already know what Frost Giants look like. But the thought of the burgeoning horror in Jane’s eyes should he do the same with her…

_ Revealing to her the face of the monster within? No.  _ He would rather not give her additional reason to feel repulsed by him.

Much as he loathes Odin for the great lie, at least Odin has left him this, a mask behind which Loki can hide. Behind which he can pretend to be nothing more than Asgardian.

But what is he to do? Even though his so-called mother and brother claim to be on his side, he does not yet trust them. Jane Foster of Midgard is the sole being in all of Yggdrasil who, to his knowledge, has always spoken truth to him. The sole person who (until recently) accepted him. Oh, Thor and Frigga _say_ they accept him, but there will be strings attached, he would wager Odin’s illusion on it. 

Surely Jane has earned the right to the truth, ugly as it may be? Not to mention what his negligence had cost her…

But despite all his rationalizations, the roiling in his stomach will not settle. 

He requires, it seems, companionship, or he would not be here. But does he not need _more_ than that? Someone who will hear him, accept him? Jane may have given him that before, but there’s no predicting whether things will continue on in that vein now, no matter what truths he allows to pass his lips at last.

His own family, who know him best and for the longest time, do not truly believe him or trust him, he knows. So why should this little Midgardian? Especially after how he abandoned her.

Long moments pass while he battles himself. The cost of not agreeing to Jane’s terms may be high; he may well lose her permanently over this. And not only that – he will lose the chance to be _that_ man again. Not Loki of Jotunheim, the unwanted runt left for dead. Nor Loki of Asgard, failed destroyer of Jotunheim and failed conqueror of Midgard, mad and power-hungry and looked down upon by the people of Asgard. Both of those identities he would be more than happy to relinquish.

But to be Loki Lokisson, the person worthy of Jane Foster’s love and companionship, to _not_ be at odds (or at least, to a lesser degree) with everyone around him…he would very much prefer to maintain that identity, to be _that_ man.

Perhaps Jane truly has changed him. Or, being emotionally involved with her has changed him. For the better.

Is he prepared to surrender all of that, just because he would prefer to deny what he really is?

Loki stiffens as his magic-sharpened senses bring Jane’s summons to his ears once more. He considers ignoring it; for one of the few times in his long life, Loki has little notion how to proceed from this point.

*~*~*

_ Enough_, Jane finally says to herself nearly an hour later, rubbing tiredly at her forehead.

She needs to make a decision. Is Loki’s refusal a deal-breaker, or is his earlier confession to her enough?

The anguished expression on his face as he’d risen from the couch is etched into her memory. That, and the tear dropping from his eye. There’s so much _pain_ there, a wound so deep she can barely imagine how far down it goes. 

Is it really that important _what_ he is?

_ Maybe this is all another act_, the nagging little voice points out. 

But Jane doesn’t think so. What could he possibly gain? Well, sex, and maybe a way to get to other Realms, if he convinces her to build her Einstein-Rosen bridge. But he could get sex anywhere, she’s pretty sure, if he put his mind to it. And he obviously has a way to get off-planet that doesn’t require her help, or there’s no way he could have saved her from The Other.

He may indeed be a really good actor, but she can’t conceive of any possible motivation he’d have, for him to try to fool her _now._

_ The truth is, I want to try again with him.  _

Yes, she’s mad as hell at him, and yes, he’s fucked-up in so very many ways. Darcy had hit the nail right on the head: Loki is insecure and afraid, and he’d left her in a misguided attempt to try to protect himself. 

But he’s back now, and things with his family are really _not_ going well, if she believes him. Jane can certainly relate, as things with her own mother have been strained for years. But she has Darcy and Erik, and up until recently, her work.

What does Loki have? Well, she’s suspected the answer to that for a while, hasn’t she?

_ Me. And me alone.  _

Jane is fairly certain that Loki wants to have a positive relationship with someone. Who wouldn’t? And if The Other hadn’t interfered, would things between them have continued to be good? Jane is pretty sure the answer to that is yes.

But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want things to change. Loki being more truthful with her _is_ still a requirement, as far as she is concerned. At least he’d made an effort by finally telling her his big secret.

But the question remains: Does it matter whether she _sees_ the real him?

Maybe there’s only so much she can reasonably ask of him at this point. Or that he’s emotionally capable of sharing with her. 

At least she knows the truth at last, and knowing something is better than knowing _nothing._

And she wants him. Jane’s put too much time, effort, and too much of _herself_ into this relationship (and yes, it _is_ a relationship, no matter what non-traditional label Loki wants to slap on it this time) to let it go so easily. If he had stayed away forever, that would be one thing. But he’s back, and he’s obviously sorry and making an effort, so-

Mind made up, Jane speaks out loud again. “Loki.”

Nearly a minute passes, and Jane shifts uneasily on the couch. Did she manage to drive him away after all?

But something moves in the corner of her vision, and when she turns her head, he’s standing in the shadows of the living area. The long lines of his body are just as tense as they were before, his eyes dark and guarded. For a moment, Jane isn’t sure if he’s another one of her hallucinations or not, and the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.

But there’s no anger in his face when he steps forward, and Jane relaxes marginally.

“Many things I am willing to give you,” he says before she can speak, his voice low and firm, but with an edge Jane recognizes as him drawing a line in the sand. “But I will _not_ show you the face of the monster.”

Jane sighs and gets carefully to her feet. “You’re not a monster. I _don’t_ believe it,” she says firmly.

He’s never been monstrous to her (well, not since the _very_ beginning)…this self-proclaimed god who saved her life. Even if his actions are what put her at risk in the first place, she absolves him of that responsibility.

This thing – this ‘Frost Giant’ thing – has nothing to do with her. Nor, as he’d said before, with them. Oh, maybe further down the road it might be relevant, but then again, maybe not. She’s not sure if she wants children, or if _he_ does. Or if this thing between them has enough legs to even last out the year. It’s like trying to characterize a new star before she’s even bothered to look for the galaxy it’s located in. 

No, the important thing is that he’s here now, and she has all too accurate a sense of how achingly lonely he must feel. She knows quite a bit about being an outcast – from her family, from former friends, from the scientific community – to judge him harshly.

“Nevertheless,” he insists, “I will not-“

Jane holds up her hand to stop him. “OK.”

Loki blinks, but his wary expression does not change. “What?”

“It’s OK, you don’t need to show me,” Jane clarifies softly. “One day, I hope you might trust me, and accept yourself enough, that you will. But if that day isn’t today, it isn’t. If you feel that this is your true face, then that’s good enough for me right now.” She shrugs. “So, if you want to give ‘us’ another go, I’m willing. Though I hope you will make…allowances for what I’ve been through recently.”

The relief on his face makes something loosen in her own chest and shoulders. No, she isn’t ready to give up on ‘them’ yet.

“But, I do have one condition,” she adds, trying not to tense up again as a shadow crosses his features, his blue eyes darkening. 

“Which is?” he asks, his tone hesitant.

“No more unilateral decisions about _us_. That includes, but is not limited to, breaking up, getting married, and whatever other crazy ideas you get into your head, Loki of Asgard,” she says adamantly. “If there’s a problem, we will _discuss_ it. We’re not going to deal with things by having you make a pronouncement from on high, and then flit off to another corner of the damned universe. Is that clear?” She crosses her arms and pins him with her best don’t-fuck-with-me look. 

The corner of his mouth turns up slowly. “Very clear. I agree to your terms, Jane Foster of Midgard.”

For a long moment they stand there, smiling cautiously at each other. Loki is the first to take a slow, small step towards her, but somehow or other they end up pressed together, arms wrapping carefully around each other.

Jane presses her cheek to Loki’s armoured chest, breathing in the familiar leather scent of him. She becomes aware then that he is trembling ever so slightly. 

They both need to heal. Jane hopes they can do it together.

*~*~*

For a few days, Jane’s routine actually doesn’t change all that much despite Loki’s near-constant presence. When she asks him why he’s following her around all the time, he claims it’s because he can ‘protect her most effectively if he is in close proximity’. Jane has her doubts – surely someone as powerful as Loki doesn’t actually need to be near to protect her? - but she says nothing. He has his insecurities, and she has hers. Especially _now_.

She continues to see Doc Allen daily, and that’s one of the few times Loki appears content to teleport himself somewhere else. Well, she _hopes_ that’s what he’s doing, and that he’s not in fact eavesdropping. If she ever finds out otherwise, Asgard won’t be far enough away for him to hide from her anger! 

Jane also keeps on attending dance aerobics classes with her research assistant. Darcy gives every appearance of being genuinely happy that Jane and Loki are giving it another try (the “You _go_ , girl!” Darcy’d said when Jane told her they had reconciled was a pretty obvious hint), though after a day or so she seems much less happy about Loki shadowing Jane _everywhere_. 

So Jane and Darcy are completely in agreement when they both tell Loki flat-out that _no_ , he cannot sit there at the side of the room, even hidden behind a screen of illusion, and watch them work out. He pouts but agrees, though once again Jane finds herself hoping that he isn’t watching them on the sly. 

“And if I _ever_ find out you are watching us change in the locker room, I’ll kick your ass,” Darcy adds, and Jane tries not to smile at the incredulous expression on Loki’s face, though he says nothing.

Loki even watches over Jane (and often Darcy too) as she sleeps on the roof of the lab, the god standing tireless sentry as the moon and stars glide slowly across the sky.

At least, he stands watch for the first three days after he and Jane reconcile, that is. The fourth night, Loki vanishes soon after Darcy and Jane finish their dinner at Izzy’s, and Darcy excuses herself to take care of some unspecified something.

Which is how Jane winds up climbing the stairs to the lab roof alone, and once she’s up there, not only is Darcy nowhere to be seen, but there’s only one deck chair there…and Loki is sprawled on it in a tangle of long limbs. He’s not wearing his armour for once; he’s still got the leather pants, those are almost a constant, but he’s wearing a shirt made of some soft green fabric, with lacing loose at his throat.

Jane stops and looks at him for a moment, confused and fidgety. “OK, where am I supposed to sleep?”

Loki smirks up at her ever so slightly, his skin patterned by the flickering firelight. “If I may suggest…in my arms?” He holds out a hand to her, and Jane only hesitates for a second, before walking over to him and allowing herself to be pulled down and cradled. She wonders in a tiny moment of irritation if and just how much Darcy had a hand in this.

He conjures a blanket from the air and tucks it around them both, and soon a comfortable warmth builds between their bodies. Jane falls asleep faster than she can remember happening since her kidnapping. It’s also the first night she sleeps without a single nightmare.

Of course, it’s not all positive; not everyone is thrilled that Loki is back. Jane supposes that she should be grateful that all the SHIELD personnel she has to deal with, especially Director Fury, are being carefully neutral about the whole thing. She’s not surprised that Doc Allen’s reaction is neutral – it’s his _job_ , after all – and although Jane spends an entire morning fretting about how Agent Coulson will react, he only gives her his signature half-smile, then says: “Everyone deserves a second chance. But _not_ a third.”

He then tells her to inform him _immediately_ if Loki starts acting like a dick, and that’s the end of any awkwardness between them. Well, _additional_ awkwardness. Jane still isn’t entirely comfortable dealing with shadowy government agencies and agents.

Erik, of course, is a whole different story. Jane hadn’t quite been able to work up the courage to go and tell him herself…shamefully, she’d let Darcy take care of that for her.

Erik had called Jane then, outraged and trying to talk her out of it. But Jane’s heard (and thought of) all the arguments before, and though she sympathizes with Erik’s point of view, it’s her life and she has to do what feels right. Which is exactly what she'd tolds him, though she'd also repeated very firmly that Erik is still _family_ to her.

Much to her surprise, Erik begins to hang out with them again, though he and Loki usually try to stay about as far away from each other as they can, each steadfastly ignoring the other.

Jane doesn’t even think they’ve spoken more than two words to each other, though one night, while climbing up to the roof of the lab, she overhears them talking on the roof above her.

“I’ll be watching you,” Erik is snarling, venom in his voice. Jane stops mid-stride, biting her lip and debating whether to hurry up there and try to referee whatever is happening between them, or to wait.

But when Loki answers, his tone is even and calm, and Jane relaxes just a fraction. “Good. I do not know nearly as much about Midgardian women as I would like. It would be extremely useful to have someone to inform me when I am making errors.” Though there’s no trace of mockery or malice in Loki’s tone, Erik still scoffs loudly, brushing past Jane with a grumpy ‘Good night’ on the stairs a second later. Loki looks disappointed when Jane catches her first sight of his face, as if he wishes he could somehow repair things with Erik.

But other than that hiccup, Loki’s presence does help, and slowly Jane begins to take back control of her life. Soon she decides that it’s completely ridiculous to be sleeping on the roof of the lab. Her bed is fifty _million_ times more comfortable than a deck chair (even when it’s being cushioned by six-foot-two of Norse god).

Nearly a week after Jane and Loki reconcile, Jane suggests at last that they try to spend the night in her place instead. Jane pretends not to notice the relief in Loki’s eyes (and Darcy’s, though she spends the night in her own apartment, not Jane’s).

It doesn’t go well at first. Of course Loki climbs into bed with her, once again wearing that green shirt, and finally pants that are not leather (even if the scent of leather seems to have permanently wormed itself into his flesh). 

They haven’t tried to _sleep_ together, not in the Biblical sense anyway, since he came back. But as this does not seem to bother Loki, Jane decides to wait until she feels more ready to start _that_ aspect of things again.

So they lie together under the covers, spooning, and Jane falls asleep quickly again. Her sleep is peaceful at first. Until she wakes up on the floor, a scream dying in her throat as she struggles against the tangled sheets, her entire body coated with sweat. A hellish image floats in her brain; a repeat performance of Loki, tinged blue by the lights in her airless stone cell, torturing her with his knives with slow relish-

But when she blinks the sweat and tears out of her eyes, Loki – the real Loki – is crouched there on the floor with her. His hand is outstretched, though he doesn’t touch her, and his eyes gleam with unshed tears again. Something about the sight of them calms her for some reason, and his voice, somehow soothing yet desperate at the same time, assures her: “It was not me. I would never harm you, my Jane. _Please_ -” He reaches to brush his fingers along her elbow.

_ Only emotional harm, _ Jane thinks but does not say. Besides, he came back, right? Not to mention how he'd rescued her from The Other.

She allows him to coax her back into his arms, and to pull her onto his side of the bed away from the dampened, cold sheets and pillow. It takes some time, but eventually Jane relaxes back into sleep again.

Over the following week, Jane finds that the hallucinations during her waking hours are declining. It particularly helps when Loki is physically present and she can tell instantly whether a hallucination is real or not. 

The nightmares are another story, but initially Jane thinks there’s little she can do to stop them. Loki hasn’t gained the ability to heal while he was away, and though he offers to cast a sleep spell on her one difficult night, it actually makes things _worse_ ; the nightmares still come, but Jane can’t wake up to escape them, leading to an agonizing night and a horrific morning-after. They don’t try _that_ again.

But despite her nocturnal struggles, after some discussion she and Doc Allen decide that it’s time to see him only twice a week. They also decide to stop the Trazodone, as she’s sleeping fine except for the nightmares. Jane has never been comfortable using a crutch anyway, and besides, a little research in the library yields some interesting strategies to improve posttraumatic nightmares. 

Reading about the various strategies gives her an idea, and she decides to try a little experiment (after all, research and experimentation _are_ her thing). She already knows from prior experience that Loki can enter her dreams, so she asks him to monitor her sleep, and to enter the nightmares to help her fight off the not-Lokis. 

It takes a few nights, but soon Loki and Jane have it down to a near-science, and eventually Jane finds herself able to take enough control of the dream to save herself without Loki’s help. She’s rather fond of conjuring a large bazooka and blowing the not-Loki to smithereens, though the real Loki doesn’t seem to know whether to be amused or worried about this.

Before long, Jane is comfortable enough to spend more time at home than on the roof of the lab, both day and night. Though not everything is back to normal. She still hasn’t called Tony back; Stark-Foster is dead in the water.

But that itself is rather pleasant, in a strange way. Jane is someone who most people would consider very _driven_. For years she has been working days, often evenings (one can’t see too many stars during the day!) and weekends. Tracking astrophysical phenomena, struggling to find grants, fighting to rig together her own equipment, trying to make sense of piles of data…and she can’t even remember the last time she went on a vacation.

So even though something utterly horrible started this, it _is_ kind of nice to get off the treadmill she’s had herself on for nearly the last decade. 

If Loki is bothered by her drifting idly through her day - from her appointments with Doc Allen to Izzy’s diner, or to the gym, then back to her apartment to watch trashy TV all afternoon or surf the web - he hides it well. Which again supports Jane’s belief that there’s no possible way Loki wants or needs her to build a Bifröst for his own nefarious purposes. A legendary schemer he may be, but Jane doesn’t think even he is that patient. Plus it’s not like he needed anyone’s help to jump between worlds to rescue her, right?

To Loki’s credit, he’s taking the new ‘rules’ of their relationship to heart. Although he is still a bit hesitant to volunteer any personal information, he answers Jane’s direct questions without any apparent flinching. That isn’t too difficult though, as Jane doesn’t ask anything too personal at first. He’s raw, and though she’s no expert on people, this fact is so evident that even _she_ can read it from him.

But that doesn’t satisfy her for long – she’s a scientist in need of experimentation, and although she’s not yet ready to look to the stars again, the need itself is still there – and so that’s how, one afternoon about three weeks after they reconcile, Jane finds herself asking Loki what he was doing when he had ‘disappeared’ (which has become their less-acerbic way of referring to ‘when you dumped me’). “I assume you went to Asgard?” she inquires.

Loki sighs laboriously and sits next to Jane on the couch, laying his hands carefully on his armoured knees. He keeps his gaze fixed on them as he tells her about taking Thor home to the Realm Eternal, about the argument as to where to imprison him – his rooms or the dungeons - and the visits from Frigga and Thor. Finally Loki tells her about Thor’s theory that everything had been part of some larger plot by Odin, though his hands clench spasmodically on his knees and anger edges his words.

After a pregnant pause, Loki adds haltingly how he’d decided at that moment of realization that the time had come to stop running away from the things he had done, and also from things he found difficult.

He falls silent once more, and Jane shakes her head slowly. Odin sounds like the world’s _worst_ father, but again she must remind herself that she only has Loki’s version of the story. 

Still, if she ever finds herself in Asgard, she will have a few pointed questions for this so-called All-Father.

Turning to Loki, Jane notices the telltale shimmer of tears welling in his eyes again. Without thinking, she stretches out her hand to touch his cheek, to brush fallen strands of sable hair back behind his ear.

He blinks, as if he’d forgotten Jane was even there. His arm slips cautiously around her shoulders, tightening only enough to draw her against his side, and following her instincts, Jane leans up to kiss his cheek. Loki sighs again and turns his head towards her, leaning down until his mouth is touching the skin just to the side of her mouth. He doesn’t push it further than that, and after a moment or two Jane realizes he’s waiting for _her_.

She hadn't realized how badly she's missed this, not until her hands slide up to cup his face and she discovers herself kissing him eagerly. Maybe it’s not the sex, so much as the physical comfort and the sensuality of touch, but she _wants_ this. 

When he repositions them so that she's straddling his lap she keeps on kissing him, taking the time to see if he tastes the way she remembers (he does). She can feel just how badly he wants this too, though he doesn’t make any attempt to take control, seemingly content to follow her lead entirely. So Jane kisses her way down his throat, tracing her tongue along the lightly salty skin just above where his collar ends, feeling his throat muscles shift under her lips as he swallows.

Then she tilts her head to the side and bares the length of her throat to him. An open invitation that it only takes him a second to take. Teeth graze her skin and Jane shivers, but with delight. His hands are very warm where they curl over the back of her neck and upper back, and her brain goes off on one of her random tangents, wondering if she had been totally imagining it when they had felt cold to her.

There’s no denying the heat of his tongue as it laps a slow, damp line up the side of her neck. Jane whimpers and closes her eyes-

Things veer into the terrifying. Loki’s hands turn so icy they _burn_ , sharp nails punching into her flesh through her clothes and chilling her to the root of her bones, and icicles tear at the side of her neck until blood spurts free – Jane shrieks and flails, pushing herself backward, away.

She lands on her ass on the floor with a thud that makes her bones ring. Her neck is whole when she puts a shaking hand to it, and Loki is staring down at her wide-eyed and stunned, frozen in the act of leaning forward on the couch as if he had tried to catch her just now.

“Jane, was it-?”

“Yeah, another damned hallucination. _Fuck_.” Jane smacks her hand sharply against the floor in frustration, then winces from the sting in her palm. She sighs, rolls to her knees, and climbs back onto the couch to sit next to Loki again. He doesn’t reach for her, but he does shuffle over so that their sides are touching.

“Just when I think it’s over, that maybe The Other’s spell is totally broken and I’m free…there’s another damned hallucination.” Jane presses her hands to her temples, digging her fingers into her scalp as if she can press the images out.

Loki exhales heavily. “I have tried, as you know, but despite my best efforts I cannot unravel The Other’s spell any further. Only time can do that, I fear, my love.”

“Time,” Jane echoes him, letting her hands fall limp in her lap. “How _much_ time? How long am I going to be like this, ambushed from nowhere by horrible things which aren’t real?” _And struggling sometimes to remember what has actually happened between us, and what is just a fake memory created by The Other_ , though that too has been made easier by having the real Loki around to remind her what he’s _really_ like, at least when he’s in her company. But she sees no need to inform him of that; he’s already carrying his burden of guilt. 

Loki shakes his head and brushes gentle fingers across her cheek, and Jane closes her eyes and leans more heavily against his side. From the darkness behind her eyelids she listens to him speak: “I cannot predict how long it will take, much as I wish otherwise.”

Jane opens her eyes again and leans away, turning to face him. “You’ve been through this, Loki. How long did it take you?”

He chuckles, but it’s more bitter than amused, and rubs a hand over his forehead as he gets up, turning his back to her and taking a step or two away as he answers.

“A good long while,” he replies, his voice quiet as it often is when he’s telling her something he considers a secret between them. “Many Midgardian months, in fact.”

Jane clenches her hands at the thought of being like this for _months_ , but Loki has turned to meet her gaze. “But that does _not_ mean that such will prove the case with you. It affects everyone differently; the visions and nightmares which plague you were ended within weeks for me. But the false, poisoned memories The Other's spell lodged in my mind..." Loki pauses, shaking his head. "Those stayed with me the longest. Though I was…badly wounded in both mind and heart before Thanos even found me-” he swallows, throat flexing, “-which gave extra fuel to The Other’s spell over me. You, to my knowledge, were whole before they took you.” He smiles slightly. “And in some ways, you are far stronger than me. I think you will heal the faster.”  

“I don’t know if I’m that patient,” she complains, though his compliment does lighten her mood a little. “I don’t know how long I can remain celibate, but if we’re going to get interrupted by some terrible hallucination every time we try to get close to each other-”

“Hmm,” Loki interrupts her, tilting his head. “Perhaps we can find a creative way to avoid triggering the visions.” He turns away again, his back facing towards her.

Before Jane can ask him to clarify, the air around them darkens and ripples. She blinks, trying to focus, and once her brain finally catches up with her befuddled eyes, she can see even from the back that Loki has _changed_.

He’s just as tall but his hair is much longer. His armour has changed too; it doesn’t enhance his shoulders as much as it did before, and it narrows at the waist and flares out a bit at the hip. 

When he turns back to her, it confirms what Jane has already guessed – he is now a she. Fascinated, Jane studies his – _her_ – face closely. It’s bizarre how similar some features are. The shape of the cheekbones and mouth, for example. And the eyes are the same. And yet, the features on that face seem softer somehow, more delicate than before. 

Still, Loki’s smirk looks just like it always does, as she glides gracefully down to sit on the couch next to Jane again.

Loki smiles gently, then reaches a hand up to stroke Jane’s cheek. Fingertips trail downwards, then brush over the necklace to tease nails tenderly along the path of skin above Jane’s collar. 

Jane swallows hard, suddenly tense. “What are you-?” she says, her voice breathless in her own ears. 

“Since you have never witnessed me wearing this form before, it stands to reason that you never had any visions of myself tormenting you while wearing this body. Am I correct?” she asks, and Jane’s brain cannot help but attempt to analyze that sweet, husky voice, trying to find parallels between it and Loki’s usual one.

“Y-yes,” Jane answers, distracted by the cool fingers gently trailing back up her neck. 

Loki’s smile widens. “Good.” In one swift move, she lifts Jane effortlessly – apparently Loki’s physical power hasn’t changed one bit– and settles the smaller woman on her lap. 

Hesitantly, Jane stretches out a hand to finger a lock of Loki’s sleek hair. “I…I’ve never been with a woman before,” she admits.

Loki smirks and runs a hand slowly up the length of Jane’s spine. “You’re not with one _now_ , my Jane.”

Jane giggles nervously and covers her face with her hand for a second. “This is such a mind-fuck,” she blurts out.

The slender lines of Loki’s eyebrows raise. “Does it truly matter so much what form I wear? I remain myself, and I still desire you. _Greatly_.” One of Loki’s hands curls gently around the back of Jane’s neck, but she only draws her in for a soft, chaste kiss on the lips.

Jane whimpers before she can stop herself, her hands spreading out over the armoured chest in front of her, though she feels herself freeze for a second at the realization that there are actual breasts under Loki’s breastplate. Jane giggles again, feeling a little disoriented by all this.

And yet, the lips against hers taste just like Loki’s do in his male form.

Loki laughs softly too, moving Jane subtly closer, and it’s so very odd to press against this body and not feel a bulge in his pants pressing back. Well, Loki’s chest is bulging out, Jane supposes, but that’s _not_ the same thing at all.

It’s a little less disconcerting if Jane closes her eyes, so she does this just as Loki opens her mouth, tongue flicking delicately as a snake’s against Jane’s lips, and there’s only a second of hesitation before she opens her mouth and allows Loki in.

Loki’s hand slips up to cradle Jane’s head, pulling their mouths more tightly together, and Jane shivers, moaning deep in her throat. As weird as this is, she realizes she _needs_ it. She needs him, even if 'him' is a 'her' right now.

By the time they break apart, both women are breathing heavily. “Shall we avail ourselves of your bed?” Loki asks, her pale cheeks lightly flushed pink and her eyes bright and sea-green.

“Sure,” Jane agrees, clearing her throat. She’s not entirely surprised when Loki stands up, gripping Jane firmly behind each thigh to support her, but she still can’t help a yelp as she grabs at Loki’s slender shoulders for support.

“I have you, my love,” Loki assures her as she carries Jane easily into the bedroom and sets her down on the twisted sheets Jane never got around to straightening this morning. 

Jane shifts over to give Loki enough room to lie down, but the other woman remains at the side of the bed, her expression sultry as she removes her armour piece by leisurely piece. Jane watches closely, too interested to focus on removing her own clothes.

Loki in his female form is just as pale, perhaps even more so, with breasts that are similar in size to Jane’s (a deliberate choice? Jane wonders), and a black coiling of hair between her thighs. Loki drops the last piece – her shirt – on top of the pile of leather and cloth and preens under Jane’s gaze, then rakes her eyes along the length of Jane’s body as she slips onto the bed.

Still, Loki hesitates in the act of taking the hem of Jane’s shirt between her long fingers. “May I?” she croons softly, looking up at her from under half-lowered lashes.

Jane clears her throat, her tension increasing once more. “Sure,” she repeats, wishing she didn’t sound so much like a broken record. Something about this scenario is awkward, and yet is pushing her buttons _hard_. It’s almost like being with a new partner (yet not), but maybe that’s just because it’s been a while. Or maybe it’s the strangeness of being with a female partner. Jane just doesn’t know.

The shirt is lifted carefully over Jane’s head, and then Loki leans in to kiss her, following a path from lips to hollow of throat to breastbone. Cool fingertips flirt with the edge of Jane’s bra-cup, then slide around her back to deftly undo the clasp. 

Jane shivers, moaning as Loki’s lips and fingers and teeth tease her flesh into tight, tingling peaks, and she wraps a leg around Loki, pushing up into her lover’s body. Long locks of Loki’s hair slip across Jane’s skin, a mix of tickle and caress that has Jane curling her toes and squirming.

“How I have missed this,” purrs the familiar-yet-not voice, and Jane replies with a wordless sound of agreement, the slow heat in her flesh spreading lower as Loki moves her attentions gradually down Jane’s stomach, stopping again at the barrier of the waistband of jeans. The damp heat of Loki’s mouth is sending jolts of pleasure right up Jane’s spine, which arches helplessly.

Loki looks up again, requesting permission with her gaze, and Jane bites her lip and nods, well aware of how wet she already is. Before long Jane is stripped bare, Loki slithering back up the bed to pull Jane into her arms and press their bodies together. Soft flesh presses against soft flesh, and Loki’s hands aren’t idle; they map Jane’s body, rediscovering her.

Jane writhes again as cool fingers trail gingerly up her inner thigh, and Loki laughs kindly. “I’d nearly forgotten how much I enjoy making you squirm. It’s as sweet to watch and feel as ever,” she declares, eyes glinting so mischievously that Jane finds herself chuckling, too.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Jane answers with a smirk.

Loki’s delicate brow furrows. “Which word is that?” She’s serious, and Jane can’t help giggling. 

“It’s just an expression.” 

“Oh,” Loki answers. “Evidently you shall have to school me in such matters. At a future time, obviously.” 

“Obviously,” Jane replies, though the word ends in a gasp as Loki’s elegant fingers find their way between Jane’s legs, reaching into her damp curls.

Jane buries her face in the midnight fall of Loki’s hair, soft noises of wanting drawn out of her as Loki strokes and massages, rubbing every place she knows will drive Jane wild. The smaller woman realizes with a start that she’s digging her nails into the soft skin of Loki’s back, but it doesn’t seem to bother the other woman.

Finally Loki gently pushes Jane onto her back, leaning down to kiss her with a softly probing tongue as two fingers work their way deep inside Jane’s core. A whimper vibrates in her throat and Jane can feel Loki’s smug smile against her mouth as Loki’s hand begins to move, thrusting and withdrawing slowly at first, a slow caress of all the deepest places inside Jane, then faster and faster. At the end of every thrust, Loki’s thumb presses firmly on Jane’s clit, dragging another cry out and easing her ever closer to the edge.

And Jane is close, so _very_ close. Between one thrust and the next her muscles go taut, one hand twisting into Loki’s hair and the other into the bed-sheets as she shudders and succumbs to pleasure.

Jane lolls on the sheets, every part of her body and mind unfocused, relaxed, but the intent look in Loki’s eyes informs Jane that she isn’t done yet. She waits until Jane’s body has stopped spasming around her fingers, until breaths and heartbeats slow. Then, with excruciating slowness, she pulls her hand out and up, gliding it slickly across Jane’s throbbing little nub.

Even as Jane moans, Loki changes position on the bed, long hair sliding across Jane’s waist. When heat and wetness envelop her clit again, even though she _expects_ it, Jane still can’t hold back a gasp, her hips jerking. Loki only hums laughter around her nub and strokes the tiny center of pleasure languidly with her tongue, her arm settling across Jane’s hips to hold her still.

Loki lavishes most of her attention on Jane’s clit, occasionally pausing to lick along her folds or along the top of her inner thighs, but always moving back to tease her favourite spot. Before long Jane finds herself back at the crest of orgasm. It explodes over her in a bone-melting wave when Loki eases fingers back into her, suckling gently at the same time.

Jane screams, driven completely mindless in the most wonderful way. The air wheezes in her lungs as she comes down from her high, and when she can organize her brain processes enough to open her eyes again, she sees Loki is smirking up at her, wiping a slender hand across her moistened lips. 

“Again, my dear Jane?” Loki asks, her expression absolutely devilish. 

“Hell _no_ , I need a break,” Jane protests weakly, struggling just to lean up onto her elbows. The best way to earn a rest would likely be to distract Loki, but…

Jane’s never been with a woman before, but she’s also more than a little concerned that asking Loki to resume his usual form will somehow trigger another goddamned hallucination and ruin everything. Besides, Jane may not have any experience sleeping with a woman, but she _is_ one, so that should give her some idea what to do, right? It seems logical enough.

Loki looks very content with herself as she sits up too and loops an arm around Jane, pulling the smaller woman into her lap and gently brushing sweaty strands of hair off Jane’s face and neck. 

Jane is happy to rest her head on Loki’s shoulder, waiting until her limbs no longer feel like cooked spaghetti. Once she feels ready, she says: “Your turn,” and slips herself out of Loki’s arms. 

Loki raises a brow, eyes tracking Jane’s movements. “Oh?” she drawls.

“Yes,” Jane insists, grasping at Loki’s shoulders and tugging. It doesn’t work at first – yes, Loki is still fearsomely strong, no matter what form he wears – but finally with a tiny smirk she relents and allows Jane to guide her down onto the mattress on her back.

It starts with kisses, that’s not too challenging for Jane. First lips, and then Jane drifts her kisses down the line of that sharp jaw, along Loki’s long throat, and lastly over her collarbones.

Loki’s breath catches as Jane pauses where the swell of Loki’s breast begins, pale fingers caressing Jane’s scalp and hair. She can obviously sense Jane’s hesitation. “I can think of little you would do which would not bring me pleasure,” Loki says encouragingly.

Jane nods, her cheek rubbing against Loki’s breast. Taking a deep breath and trying her best to ignore the _oddness_ of it all, she kisses her way down the incredibly silky skin until she can take a hardened nipple into her mouth, suckling gently at first. Loki gasps softly, arching up into Jane’s mouth, coaxing Jane to suck harder.

She spends some time teasing each nipple, glancing up occasionally to see Loki’s eager, approving gaze. She doesn’t seem to be botching this too badly.

Finally Jane moves lower, drifting down until she’s lying between Loki’s long legs, the thick mass of black curls right in front of her face. The scent of Loki’s sex is different, sweeter than the musk Jane has come to associate with Loki’s male form. Interesting.

Jane strokes her fingers gently through the warm curls, smiling a little as Loki shudders. The skin underneath, when Jane works up the nerve to touch it at last, is hot and slippery, and soon Jane’s curiosity gets the better of her. She spreads the folds apart carefully, examining and caressing, urged on by the soft sounds of pleasure coming from her partner.

It doesn’t take much effort to find the round little nub, and the sounds Loki makes as Jane rubs it in soft circles almost cause Jane to laugh. She’s beginning to see why Loki enjoys teasing her like this so very much.

Loki’s thighs tighten against Jane’s shoulders as she continues to massage, and finally Jane can’t resist the urge to watch Loki lose herself. Jane finds the opening to Loki’s body and eases her fingers inside, then leans forward and places her lips around Loki’s clit.

It throbs under her tongue, and Jane closes her eyes, savouring the salty taste of this new, unfamiliar act. 

But the noises Loki is making urge Jane to open her eyes again, to start thrusting with her hand and licking and sucking. Loki arches, head thrown back, all her muscles stiffening, and it drives Jane to move hand and tongue faster.

Loki gasps out one last loud cry and goes completely rigid, then the spasms roll through her body. Jane smiles as she feels the muscles inside Loki pulsing and grasping at her fingers. Yes, no wonder Loki loves this.

Jane, mirroring Loki’s earlier actions, waits until the last of the tension has drained from Loki’s body before easing her fingers out. Slowly, the last of her energy spent, Jane crawls up the bed to settle herself in the circle of Loki’s arms.

“Thank you, my love,” Loki murmurs. “That was…” Jane feels an odd sensation wherever her bare flesh is touching Loki’s, and mere moments later the body wrapped around hers is familiar again, most of the softness replaced by firm muscle. “Delicious,” he finishes, his voice deep and husky in a way that releases a shiver up Jane’s spine.

“Not bad for my first time with…someone in female form?” Jane asks with a chuckle.

“No, indeed not,” Loki purrs. 

Jane yawns, but before she can ask, Loki pulls the covers up over them both. “Sleep, my Jane. We have accomplished much today,” Loki asserts, the appreciation obvious in his voice.

“Sounds good,” Jane agrees, snuggling as close to him as she can, her eyes slipping shut easily, and her body leaden after two wonderful orgasms.

Just before she drifts off, she thinks: _Maybe this_ will _all work out somehow_.  



End file.
